Eclectics
by scrivendown
Summary: Richard Castle and Kate Beckett try to take a long hard look at their relationship, while unknown people are on the warpath.  In progress, updates Wednesdays.
1. Chapter 1

_Well, I never thought I'd be writing a fanfiction again, but I needed the handwriting practice, and I found something truly awesome to write about._

_I'm talking, of course, about a fantastic television series starring Nathan Fillion (Browncoats forever) and Stana Katic (who definitely makes my "freebie five"). I've read about, oh, two million words of Castle fanfics in the last three days (as I write this), which is roughly my usual weekly book consumption, and so I felt like stretching my creative bones and getting writing. Here we go..._

_While I was watching Cuffed and feeling sorry for myself that there'd be no more Castle for the year, I thought about the ending, and wondered just how much Castle and Beckett acknowledge their unspoken commitment. Here's my take, mixed with a few other interesting short story concepts that I picked up._

* * *

><p>Richard Castle stepped out of the elevator and into the bustling Homicide squad room as the doors binged open, bearing two coffees and a bear claw for his designated detective, Kate Beckett. He strode around the patchwork maze of desks, avoiding cops hurrying about their duties, before ending up seated beside Beckett's desk.<p>

Detective Katherine Beckett was, of course, dealing with paperwork. There was no end to the stuff, even if it was digital: every fact of every case had to be meticulously documented for the district attorney and the NYPD's own records. She sat, rapidly tapping out woefully boring details. The bull pen, the voices of cops in all directions, on phones, in impromptu meetings, escorting people to and from interrogation rooms; all of it carefully ignored.

Castle placed one of the takeaway mugs on the ever-present ring etched into a now-useless notepad for the insensible quantity of coffee slopped onto it, staining it a mildly distressing brown.

"Morning, Beckett," he said cheerfully.

There was a slight pause before she replied, her voice cracking slightly from the prolonged mistreatment.

"Hey, Castle."

"Paperwork?"

Beckett turned from her display, and smiled. "Would you believe, the same paperwork I was doing yesterday?"

Castle grimaced.

"You could help, you know."

"I'd prefer not to. The shadowing, the shooting, the interrogation, yes, fine. The paperwork? Not a chance."

Beckett rolled her eyes, and went back to typing, and it was only at this point that Castle noted the slightly red rims around her eyes, as if she had been up for hours, or if she'd been crying, and his mind was tinged slightly with worry.

"Are you feeling all right, Beckett?" asked Castle quietly.

She kept typing, ignoring the question, looking somewhat zombified as she stared interminably at the screen while she typed some obscure note from the case file.

"Kate?" Castle said, trying to attract her attention.

"Yes, Castle?" she replied distantly, quietly, almost vaguely; Castle had almost never heard her speak without an incredible quantity of decision and self-awareness, and immediately he knew that something was very wrong. He remained seated, slowly sipping his coffee.

Beckett hadn't touched her styrofoam cup of coffee, but looked to be almost through all the notes in the particular file, and almost exactly on cue, she slammed the folio shut, threw it onto the contents of the case box and tossed the lid on after it, powered down her workstation, and grabbed her coat and bag.

"What, that's it for today?" he asked, and she laughed, drily, humourlessly.

"No," replied Beckett, and only now could he really see the slightly puffy eyes permanently associated with sleep loss as she put on her coat with a few swift manœvures, "that's it for yesterday."

* * *

><p>Castle watched Beckett's retreating back into the elevator, then turned and jogged over to the desk of Detective Kevin Ryan, who was currently scrawling notes onto a pad with a look of dedication.<p>

"Hey, Ryan, what's up with Beckett?" Castle asked, expecting no response.

"Insomnia, probably. Duty sergeant says she never left last night," was Ryan's immediate response.

From behind Castle, the voice of Detective Javier Esposito added, "I got here at 6 this morning, and she was still there, dealing with a crap-load of paperwork."

"Something's up, though. She's not been on the ball, I reckon," Ryan added after a moment of thought.

"I'm going to go, see if I can find out what's going on. Hopefully she's not gone too —"

Castle's sentence was cut short by a thunderous explosion from outside the precinct, and immediately, people were running for the stairs, Castle, Ryan and Esposito amongst them. Shouts came from all directions, and Castle noted a voice, tense with adrenalin, call, "dispatch, ten-thirty-three outside precinct twelve, all units deploying to investigate."

Castle thundered down the stairs with the melee of police officers, not bothering to wait for the lift, preparing to face the freshest crime scene he'd ever experienced. He pulled his phone from his pocket, and hit the speed dial, praying that Beckett would answer, but it didn't ring, jumping straight to the out-of-service subscriber notification.

By the time Castle had reached ground zero of the explosion, just outside the precinct, officers were already barricading away the still smouldering wreck of the car, and a fire crew were dousing the flames, before removing a limp, still body from the car, making Castle run forward to the barriers.

"Kate!" he shouted, watching her lifeless, blackened form being lifted onto a stretcher, and loaded into the back of an ambulance. He scrambled to get to her, but hands held him back; two uniforms were stopping him running after the medical vehicle.

Ryan and Esposito had arrived as Beckett's body was being removed from the wrecked Crown Victoria police cruiser, and looked numb with shock to see their squad leader being hauled away in such a mess. They could only dream of what Castle was going through at that stage; they knew how much that Beckett had meant to Castle, and seeing her body being pulled from a burning car could never have helped their relationship.

"C'mon, Castle," said Ryan quietly, breaking their tense silence. "We've got to head down to the hospital.


	2. Chapter 2

_Some of you may note that I just blew up Kate. I think there's no better plot device than a good explosion. I'm also a devoted Mythbusters fan, just for the explosive testing (and the incredibly over-the-top bomb-making). Strange but true: everything but the filming of Mythbusters is done in Australia, and I have a few friends who work for Beyond Productions, the company who make it, here in Sydney. Really, do you expect to be able to do that sort of stuff here in the land of the ol' bush ranger?_

_PS: As I write this (about the same time I'm writing chapter 5), I've just seen some of the reviews that have come in for the very first chapter posted, and they have been truly heart-warming. I now know exactly how all the FFN authors feel when their works get posted and they sit there for a few hours, periodically tapping refresh on the 'Reviews' page. Thank you to Stanathan25, Elisabeth-P and failbaby who reviewed my dribble quite positively. If you haven't reviewed , there's this little link at the bottom of the page…_

* * *

><p>Castle sat numbly in the back of the Roach Coach, as Ryan and Esposito's car had been christened after the release of Heat Wave, as Esposito drove, and Ryan sat in the passenger's seat. With a small pang of regret, he knew he would never sit in the front of a police cruiser, and look across, and see the woman he had fallen in love with.<p>

The silence was deafening; the two hardened cops were still trying to deal with the act that Beckett, battle-scarred Detective Kate Beckett, could be attacked on home turf, let alone have explosives go off in her car.

Castle was remembering the vivid moments of the last time Kate had been near an explosion, while they were hunting Scott Dunn, the deranged serial killer and writer. He certainly had peeked while handing Kate his jacket, and he knew Kate knew he had, but neither had commented on the situation. He remembered the undercover kiss before they caught Hal Lockwood. He remembered moments of shared affection during their cases, the theory-building, the teasing they got.

He remembered the three words he had told her, watching her die, seeing her bleed out on the ground in the cemetery at Montgomery's funeral, confessing his love for her in those moments. He remembered the awkward shuffle they had done around the topic every time it had come up.

And yet, he knew her feelings towards him were as strong, if not stronger; hell, almost everyone did. She still hadn't returned the three little words, but the unspoken fact of it all, that it was only a matter of time.

And then he remembered who hadn't been told yet, and with leaden fingers pulled out his phone and placed the call. It picked up on the second ring.

"Jim Beckett," came the quiet response.

"Jim, it's Rick Castle. Kate…" Castle stopped, swallowed, started again. "Kate was severely injured today at work."

"What hospital, Rick?" In the background, he heard a set of keys being grabbed, and heard rapid footsteps on a timber floor; Jim's, he surmised.

"New York Presbyterian."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he said tersely, and rung off.

* * *

><p>Ryan twisted in his seat, and patted Castle's knee, knowing how painful it was for him to have to make that call. Castle only sat there, expression wooden, as they wove the streets of Manhattan to get to the hospital.<p>

In a quiet lounge, Esposito, Ryan and Castle occupied one side of the room. Castle slowly sipped hospital coffee the flavour and consistency of tar, but with a welcome kick of caffeine. The silence was only interrupted by the hum of the drinks fridge and the water urn.

The door opened, to reveal the gaunt frame of Jim Beckett, and Castle stood quickly and crossed the room to him.

"What happened?" asked Jim, his voice cutting the gloomy silence.

"There was an explosion," began Ryan, rising from his seat. "We don't know how it happened, but she was just leaving the precinct."

"So what now?"

"We wait on the surgery," said Castle quietly, and the pain in his voice was unmistakeable.

* * *

><p>Kate became aware of her surroundings, gradually, as she returned to some semblance of consciousness.<p>

She smelled burning, and her arms felt like they were slowly roasting. Her feet were numb, and above all, the general throbbing pain that affected her whole body was like a slow torture, even though it was dulled by the layers and layers of painkillers, lying like a blanket over her ability to feel pain. She heard quiet, regular beeping, and the occasional hiss of a life-support system, and became aware that she was in a hospital. Kate tried to move her jaw, noting the excruciating pain she felt when she did so.

She opened her eyes to a white ceiling, and in the corner of her eyes could see restraining bollards, holding her head in place.

"Miss Beckett, I believe you're awake. Please don't try to talk," came a light female voice near her.

Kate replayed the last few minutes she could remember in her mind, trying to work out what happened. She remembered getting into her car, pulling out of the underground car park, and driving out.

She remembered a total sensory overload from the blinding flash, deafening noise and furious heat of the explosion, and she remembered going for the door, scrabbling at the control to get out, not resigned to meet her death just then. She remembered getting the door open, and trying to get out…

And that was it until she woke here, in unbearable pain.

"What happened?" she asked, loading the question with as much subtext as she could muster, the pain shooting through her jaw like fire.

"We don't quite know yet, but you were in an explosion. You were pulled from your car almost eighteen hours ago, and you left surgery about four hours ago. You have first-degree burns on your back, legs and face, second-degree burns across your torso and forearms, and your hands are badly burnt. You may have broken some bones from the shockwave of the explosion," replied the nurse, bending over Kate to check something behind her head.

Kate sighed.

"On the up side, you seem to be recovering well. We weren't expecting you to regain consciousness for another few hours, but your body seems to be healing well. You've also got some visitors waiting to meet you.


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm sure that I'll be deeply unpopular for wounding Kate that badly, but I need her incapacitated for this story to work. Also, I have no first-hand experience with explosions, and I hope never to receive it, but if you spot something glaringly wrong, please let me know, and I'll try to correct for it. Also, if the characters seem to be a bit out of character, do let me know; I want them to feel as genuine as possible._

_ Another note I'll make (from future scrivendown in chapter 5) is that I'm going to be updating more often. It keeps the queue moving along, and keeps the rabid Castle fans (like myself) happy. I picked Wednesday semi-arbitrarily; it's the day I wind up watching Castle, anyway; I feel that updating any closer to the weekend makes the turnaround too short for me. As it is, I have to write 2000-3000 words per week just for this._

_Thanks go out this time to BelleEpoque17 ("zombified!") and Vocalcreature for reviewing, and you there! Keep reading and reviewing, because there's plenty more fun coming up._

* * *

><p>Kate felt the bed being raised, and immediately took in her surroundings. She was in a utilitarian hospital room, sparsely furnished, and quite large, with New York's lights visible through windows shaded with Venetian blinds. The nurse left, taking a clipboard with her, and as soon as she cleared the doorway, Kate saw Jim Beckett standing in the doorway to her room.<p>

"Hey, Katie bear."

"Hi dad," she said, wincing through the pain.

"Rick called me. Told me that you'd gotten yourself blown up again."

Kate let out a mirthless, dry laugh, before steeling herself to talk. "How long have you been here?"

"I've been here since yesterday morning. It's just about 4 AM; we weren't expecting to hear from you for a while yet," Jim said, crossing to sit next to Kate.

"Anything on the bomb?" Kate asked, then let out a soft whimper in pain.

"I don't know. You've got the whole precinct there trying to dissect what happened, I hear. Well, almost the whole precinct; there's two lost puppy dogs outside waiting to hear from you."

Rick walked through the door, looking sombre and slightly rumpled, as if he had slept in his clothes on a lounge chair, which, of course, he had. Following behind him was Lanie, looking tired but alert, her face tinged with worry for her friend. In procession, they moved towards Kate's bedside.

"I thought I'd lost you again," Rick said quietly.

"You didn't." Blinking through a haze of pain, Kate looked at Rick and saw a mirror of her pain reflected there, a sense that she must look truly terrible again, cocooned in bandages, and she flashed back to the last time she'd seen that depth of pain on his face: lying there, in the moist grass under the harsh sunlight, feeling the burning in her chest, knowing she was bleeding out, and his hand was there, trying to save her, confessing his love to her, moments before she blacked out from shock. She still feigned amnesia of those events, but she knew she would eventually face the consequences of doing that.

"You gotta stop making such a huge mess of yourself, girl," came Lanie's acerbic tone, cutting across her daydream. "Stop letting the boys let you get bombed."

Again Kate laughed humourlessly. "Would if I could, Lanie," she said, making Lanie's lips twitch into something resembling a smile.

"Your doctor will be in to see you soon," the nurse says, as she re-enters with a tray of assorted vials of medications, and Jim and Lanie use that as a cue to leave.

Rick lingers for a few moments, after the nurse has added the medications to Kate's intravenous solution.

"Do you know what I though the last time I saw you like this?"

"What?" asked Kate, noting the pain of her jaw was slowly dulling again, and feeling slightly dreamy.

"I wished I had gotten in front of that bullet before you got hit. I wanted to have saved your life. And," he says, then stops, takes a few slow breaths, starts again. "I wish you remembered what I said to you then."

"But I do," whispered Kate, her eyes feeling more and more leaden, but she struggled to stay conscious through the infusion of drugs. "You told me you loved me. And Rick?"

"Yes, Kate?" Castle said, leaning closer to his battered, broken muse.

"I love you too," Kate Beckett breathed, slurring slightly, before lapsing into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>Rick was stunned.<p>

Lanie looked at him as he pulled the door to Kate's room shut behind him as he left. His expression was one of total shock and awe, and he felt himself tingling.

"You all right there, Castle?" asked Lanie, watching Jim Beckett retreating down the corridor.

"I must be dreaming," he said vaguely. "She told me…"

"Told you what, Castle?" Lanie asked, irritation rising, then a spark of inspiration shorted it out, and suddenly a huge grin appeared on Lanie's face. "She finally told you how she felt, didn't she?"

Castle said nothing, but his mouth slowly lapsed into a comfortable, relaxed smile, completely of it's own accord.

"Well, what are you doing out here?" Lanie asked acerbically. "Get yourself back in there, or you aren't man enough for her. Go in there and look after her," she said, then turned and marched down the corridor, fishing out her phone, on which she sent a brief text to Esposito and Ryan, demanding her bet winnings.

Castle saw the logic in what she said, so he turned and went in, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the back of one of the visitor chairs, before sitting down to watch Kate's slow breathing, and thanking whichever god saved her again from death.

As the night wore on, and the sky began to show the first signs of light, Richard Castle began to drift off, and his head slowly drooped onto Kate's bed. And something buried within her consciousness slid her arm across as she slept to lay it around Rick's head, gently cradling it.

And so writer and muse slept.


	4. Chapter 4

_I'm just beginning to realise how much what I was aiming for is now totally off-target. Certainly, I didn't want Kate to profess her love just there, but it wrote itself to that point, and I could have had her go out with the words on her lips, but that's just cold. Instead, they get to wake up together, except for the bandages. It's about this point that I want to start them talking, except Kate can't, really; her mandible is not in good shape, but at least it's not broken, and neither is Rick's heart._

_Hey, no-one reviewed chapter 3! Please review, so I know that I'm heading in the right direction. Without further ado:  
><em>

* * *

><p>Kate heard a voice cry out her name, and snapped to consciousness; well, as much as one can snap to consciousness when on a cocktail of painkillers and sedatives.<p>

"Kate!" came the quiet cry again, and she felt something shift under her left arm, pressing the bandages slightly into scorched flesh, making her immediately aware of it.

She looked down to see Richard Castle, slumped sideways in his chair such that he was laying his head on her bed, and somehow her arm had ended up around it, cocooning it. Now, however, it moved again, shaking slightly.

"Kate! Don't leave me!" he called again, voice slightly slurred by unconsciousness.

Gently, she withdrew her battered arm, to let him more room to thrash and to stop him from injuring her more, and she glanced across at the clock. The glowing green numerals read 05:42, not long from sunrise, but Kate couldn't see any sign of it in the sky she could see through the slatted window.

"Kate, I love you. Stay with me, Kate!" came Rick's voice again, and Kate flinched slightly hearing the words she had already heard, played back in her mind a million times, and she flashed back momentarily to remember the fateful day, almost a year ago, when she was shot.

"Kate, don't die," pleaded Rick quietly, and she could almost visualise the scene: her, lying in the long grass, blood welling into her dress uniform, looking up into his face, wearing an expression of total agony, his large hand pressing against the wound in her chest.

"Kate! No, Kate! Kate! _Kate_!"

Rick's voice grew louder with each repetition of her name, and she was thankful that the door was closed, stopping him from waking others in the ward with his cries. She swallowed, realising what had happened in Rick's mind: he had rewritten the ending unconsciously, and now he was watching her bleed out and die that day, the surgery not soon enough to save her. He was watching her car burn with her trapped inside, not managing to get to the door in time.

She closed one thick, wrapped hand around Rick's shoulder with a Herculean effort; the bandages wrapped so well she could barely move them, and it was excruciating to do so. She shook him gently.

"Rick, wake up. Rick!"

He started sobbing quietly, and Kate shook him more firmly, the pain shooting up her arm and causing her to spasm slightly.

"_Rick!_" she repeated firmly, at a normal volume, sounding very loud in the pre-dawn quiet of a hospital burns unit.

He stopped struggling, and she knew he must have woken.

"Rick, I'm here, just relax, it'll be all right," she said, trying to sound soothing while wincing with each movement of her jawbone.

He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily, and turned the chair around so it was facing the wall, and, more importantly, her. His face was slightly blotchy and his eyes were red-rimmed and slightly haunted.

She reached out her arm and gently stroked his face, and slowly he returned to sleep, and she followed him back into the glorious realms of slumber.

* * *

><p>Richard Castle woke up, somewhat refreshed, at about half-past seven, having had only a few hours of sleep. He managed to feel lively and active, even despite his age, which he began to realise was rapidly creeping up on him. His nose was, as usual, stuffy from the fact he had lain all night on one side, and that one side, he noted, included a beautiful form wrapped in bandages.<p>

He bent back upright, noting the crick in his neck that he'd acquired from sleeping draped over the side of Kate's bed in such an uncomfortable position, and a few of his vertebrae groaned.

He stood and stretched, noting that Kate was still asleep; he wasn't game enough to wake her, so he straightened himself out, and went in search of breakfast, which, it transpired, was a lot better than a lovely, nutritious hospital meal; Martha and Alexis had both been waiting for him to reappear.

Martha immediately hugged her son.

"How is she, Rick?" she asked, sounding grave.

"Sleeping for now. She's got more broken bones than I can count and even more bruising." Rick looked grim as he spoke, and he glanced back to the door behind him, as if eager to be by Kate's side.

"And I'm guessing you were awake worrying about her all night?" Martha asked.

"No, I got some sleep in after she woke up; that was about, oh, four-ish. Talking's painful for her, but she had a few words with Jim," said Rick.

"And you know what he hasn't told you?" Lanie, looking very well-rested, swept up to the group.

"I — well, Kate, she said — and I must say she was under pretty heavy sedation — she said — and she wasn't really with it; I must ask the doctors what the medications are, because she lapsed out far too fast — she said —" and at last, Rick's mumblings were cut across by Lanie, clearing her throat.

"Spit it out, Writer Boy." Lanie paused, theoretically to give Rick some time to speak, but after about a second of Rick gulping like a fish, Lanie continued, "What Mr. Best Selling Novelist here has been rendered speechless by is that Ms. Beckett in there has finally told him that she loves him."


	5. Chapter 5

_As I write this, it's just approaching Castle day — 4x18 47 Seconds — and I'm beginning to dislike not living in the US or Canada; I have to rely on kind and friendly people to provide torrents. To any Castle seeders, thank you for your kindness to us, euhm, locationally challenged people. Also, as you probably read a few chapters ago, I've just got a selection of lovely reviews, and they made me particularly excited to keep going, as well as a massive number of favourite author and favourite stories._

_Vocalcreature gets gold stars and confetti for reviewing; please do review, dear reader._

_So here goes._

* * *

><p>Kate became aware of the smell of coffee.<p>

She opened her eyes to Rick Castle, pushing through the door holding two breakfast trays, one of which he put down on the end of the bed beside Kate's feet, and the other made its way to the side table.

"I brought you breakfast. Well, Martha and Alexis helped with the coffee; I'm sure that hospital coffee wouldn't cut it for you. As far as I can tell, breakfast is fruit purée, with some yoghurt," Rick said, and Kate made a face. "Didn't think you'd like it. Here, have some anti-crabbiness juice."

Rick held the thermos up to Kate's lips, and tentatively tipped it, until a small trickle of the brown fluid had made it's way into her mouth, which she swallowed.

"I truly hate this," she said around the coffee mug.

"Hate what?" asked Rick, peeling the foil top off the small tub of fruit purée, and pushing the spoon down into the mildly unappetising mush.

"I hate not being fully independent. I hate having to wait for someone else to help me."

"I know, Kate, I know. But you need to eat, and you can't do that while you look like an Egyptian relic. Try not to chew."

Rick held a spoon of the purée a few inches away from Kate's face, waiting, and after a moment, and with a beleaguered expression, she took it, and swallowed it.

"And no airplane noises, Castle," Kate said after swallowing, using her no-nonsense I'm-about-to-kick-some-serious-butt voice. "I out-grew those years ago."

"And for those who are young at heart?" Rick asked back, a smile threatening to sneak across his face, but doing nothing to hide his eyes, red-rimmed and pained.

"That group does not include me," she said, irritably, and grabbed the spoon with her mouth, swallowing another mouthful of the fruit.

There was a lull in the conversation, as Kate finished the tub of fruit, spoonful by spoonful. On the last one, Rick dared to try to fly the spoon into Kate's mouth, noises and all; even despite her incapacitation, her "look", a heart-stopping death glare capable of making hardened criminals' knees turn to jelly, was still incredibly effective at stopping any aeronautical attempts.

"Now, how about more coffee?"

Kate squirmed slightly, and smiled as Rick held the thermos flask up to her nose for her to smell the tang of freshly percolated, gently roasted, moderately ground coffee, before nudging it so she could take another sip of the perfectly brewed wake-up juice, that miracle of nature that had kept her alive and kicking for fifteen years.

She played back every time Rick had brought her coffee over the past four years, and amazed herself by doing so with perfect recollection, while she ate her yoghurt.

Kate knew that she had fallen in love with him, even though she didn't want to acknowledge it. And she knew that, at some point, that would change, though for the better or for the worse, that fact would eventually get out.

* * *

><p>After breakfast, there was a knock on the door, and Captain Victoria Gates entered, brusque as ever.<p>

"Detective Beckett, I hear you got blown up again."

"Yes, sir," Kate replied.

"I hope you don't plan on making a habit of it. I don't need one of my best officers recuperating from serious injuries every few months."

"Yes, sir," Kate said again, a smile quirking the corner of her mouth.

"I hear that the Department's insurance is on the war path. They won't be reimbursing your medical costs," Gates said, and Kate's face went from mild amusement to fury within seconds.

"But this is a line-of-duty injury! That is specifically covered!" Beckett's voice was hard as steel.

"Apparently not; you had clocked out and so you aren't considered in the line of duty. Your car will be replaced, though," replied Gates, her voice parrying Kate's like a clash of well-trained swordsman.

If it was possible for Kate to become any angrier at this stage, she would have. If she had been able to, Rick knew, she would have leapt from the bed, stalked down the corridor, and proceeded to hunt down whichever banker in a suit had made that decision, and tear out their throats. As it was, Kate could barely move, and Rick pitied her for that, knowing how much she valued her independence, and how this had placed a damper upon it.

He knew that she would hate what he was about to do. But he did it anyway.

"I'm willing to pay all of Kate's medical bills," said Rick.

The silence was deafening. Both women stared at him, but the expressions showed totally different things: Kate's showed redirected hostility, and Gates' showed indifference.

Kate broke the silence first.

"No, thank you, Rick. I will pay for it myself."

Kate looked back to Gates, but Gates was nodding her agreement.

"It would be better in the long run, Detective Beckett, if Mr. Castle were to pay your bills, to get you back on duty faster."

"But sir, I —" Kate began, but was cut off by Gates.

"That is an order, Detective Beckett. See to it that the bills are dealt with, Mr. Castle, and by yourself."

With that, Gates turned and strode out, pulling the door behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

_I needed to move the story along a bit, and this seemed the best way to do it. Also, I like the way that Rick is writing while chatting to Kate; this is how I envisage a few nights a week of Rick and Kate's partnership — discussing case techniques, criminal psychology, personalities, etc. Also welcome Dr. Raju Chandra, a character which I pulled from the air because we needed an actual MD. Another, slightly less interesting note is that I've bumped my per-submission floor to 1024 words, because 1000 isn't as pretty a number._

_Is it just me, or is no-one reviewing the Wednesday chapters? Please do; it's hard to work out what's going on every two chapters._

* * *

><p>A few weeks passed, glacially. Almost daily, Ryan and Esposito came in to update her on the latest cases, but it made her even more touchy about being essentially imprisoned within her own body, and more desperate to get out of bed. Rick had spent the first few nights there, returning home for about an hour each day to shower and change, but then took to spending nights at home, and during the time he was at the hospital, he brought his new laptop, a tiny MacBook Air, and spent much of the time writing, bouncing ideas off Kate.<p>

Almost a month had passed, and Rick was putting the finishing touches on _Frozen Heat_ and beginning to draft _Explosive Heat_. Kate was slightly stir-crazy from being stuck in a bed for far too long, and from caffeine withdrawal; Rick had slowly weaned her off her usual dozen cups of coffee a day down to two.

Dr. Raju Chandra knocked on the door, and Rick looked up from where he was sitting, lying beside Kate as she proofread _Frozen Heat_ before it would go to the editors at Black Pawn, and for once, it was running early; the deadline wasn't for a few weeks yet.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Castle, Ms. Beckett. I hear you have been anxious to get out," he said, referring to the incident the previous afternoon after Rick had left where she had attempted to get out of the bed. Needless to say, various bones were still healing, and thus attempting to get out was incredibly painful. The agonised wails had eventually stopped after judicious injection of painkillers.

"Not any more," she said, wincing with the remembered pain.

"Well, I have some bad news and some good news. Your bandages will be changed in a few hours —" and Kate groaned, knowing the pain of the procedure from the last time that it had happened, "— but the good news is that you're being given lighter bandages. Also, your leg casts are essentially ready to come off, according to yesterday's X-rays, and that will happen in a matter of hours. Your hips will still have to be immobilised until they heal a bit better, and hopefully we will get the final round of skin grafts done tomorrow."

Kate was silent for a moment, absorbing the news and working out the implications.

"How long will it take for me to heal enough to get back to work?" was her first question, and the one she had asked almost every doctor a handful of times since she arrived.

"Given these results, we should be able to get you back to desk work within two weeks. How long it will take to get you back onto active duty is still a spot misty in my crystal ball; it could be a month, it could be a year, depending on how the skin grafts go. We are trying the hardest we can, but we simply don't know enough about the way the healing process works to be able to exactly predict these things."

Kate's heart fell, and she looked about to cry. Rick took her hand in his and rubbed it gently with his thumb.

"We are endeavouring to get you back to active duty as early as possible. Rest assured of that."

Dr. Chandra backed out, turned, and walked out of sight of the doorway, the door slowly swinging shut behind him.

* * *

><p>Kate turned to look at Rick, tears brimming in her eyes, but obviously trying to stop them doing so.<p>

"A year…" she repeated, quietly.

"It could be much less than that. It could be a few months," Rick argued.

"And it could equally well be a year," replied Kate.

"You don't know that," said Rick.

"A year before I can be back on duty."

"It may not be."

"But it _could_ be!"

Rick didn't reply, just gently massaged her hand, trying to think of some way to alleviate the pain that Kate must be going through. He remembered his wrist, broken days before the deadline for _A Rose for Everafter_, and the pain of being unable to write, the restrictive, psychological agony, and knew that she was feeling the same constrictive, life-terminating sensation. And he remembered very well exactly what he did to ease it.

"Kate, listen to me. I've felt the pain before."

"You don't know this helplessness," Kate spat, her words like acid.

"Yes, I do. Really," he said, lacing his voice with sincerity, trying to calm down the caged beast that was Kate Beckett, but to no avail.

"You've never been stuck here, not able to do anything, not able to do what you love, what you do every day to keep yourself honest and sane and happy —"

Rick interrupted with a derisive laugh. "You think I've never been stuck sitting at my desk, staring at a computer, not able to type, not able to write? I have, and it hurt. And you know what? I don't ever want to experience that again, and I _definitely_ don't want to watch people going through the same pain!" Rick's face was slowly building to a ruddy colour, emphasising his rugged handsomeness, as he strove to keep himself from all-out shouting. As it was, he was wound up, tight as a corkscrew, and Kate saw that.

He took a few deep breaths, to calm himself, and continued, gentler then, but with the same depth of passion.

"And you know what got me through it the last time?"

Suddenly, gently, with no pretence of an undercover police operation, with nothing but caring and friendship and pure, unadulterated love, he pressed his lips to hers


	7. Chapter 7

_My gods, it was so hard to write the end of the last chapter. The last 200 or so words gave me gyp for the better part of a day; I knew where I wanted to end up, and just kept blowing it out getting there. I tried not to make it sound too hacky or too pressured. But anyway, I think I'm happy with Caskett snogging quietly there. Makes me want to desert this fic, but I won't; you're all such great readers. :-)_

_Please excuse any leakage from 47 Seconds, by the way; I was watching it yesterday. What I note is, however, I blew up Kate well before I even knew of that episode, and had Kate lined up to reveal that she remembered about two weeks before I'd seen the promo. Some of how this chapter goes is how I'd like the whole thing dealt with in-series. On a related note, I know exactly the pain that Rick is feeling here. I have a chronically stuffed wrist._

_A big shout out to Vocalcreature, cavlik97 and Huckaby for reviewing. I know that someone's gotta be reading this, so please let me know what you think!  
><em>

* * *

><p>Kate Beckett was, for the second time, kissing Richard Castle, something which, she thought, Lanie would definitely approve of. She leaned into the kiss, trying to get as close to him as she could, even while she was wrapped up and battered, feeling the electricity between them zinging through their lips.<p>

After only a few seconds, though, he pulled away.

"Kate, we need to talk."

"Kiss me again. Then we can talk," she replied, slightly breathless, her lips a deeper red than they were before.

"Kate, please."

She sighed resignedly, even despite the rush of blood thundering through her veins, making her feel alive after the moment of shared passion.

"Go on, Castle."

Rick noticed the name shift, but didn't react.

"How long has it been since you got shot, Kate?"

Kate knew exactly where this was going.

"Can we please not have this discussion?"

"No, Kate," Rick said, gently closing the laptop, and slipping into its sleeve, before swinging off the bed to sit in the chair he had fallen asleep in for the last few nights.

Kate sighed again, this time knowing what was coming, but not having any way to ease it.

"You know what I heard you say, a few weeks ago?" Rick fired the question out, unexpectedly. He paused, then continued, "I told you that I wished you remembered what I said to you when you got shot. You told me that you remembered."

Kate closed her eyes.

"Beckett, look at me," Rick said, no, _ordered_, his voice like cold steel against Kate's ears, and reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

"How long have you told us all that you don't remember anything of being shot?"

Kate shook her head. "Eleven months," she said quietly.

"And how long have you remembered every second of that? How long have you remembered every word I said that day?"

"Eleven months." It was a whisper this time, but still there, in Kate's voice, Kate's words.

"And do you know how long we've danced around it? How long we've been this close —" Castle wrapped his index and middle fingers together "— and you haven't said anything?"

He stood suddenly, picked up the ring-bound manuscript sitting open in front of Kate, thumbed quickly through it, and tore out an almost-blank page near the very end. Kate tried to read what was on it as it quickly swept by her eyes, but before she could, he crumpled it up into a ball, and threw it at the wall with incredible force. He snatched up the laptop pocket and the handful of notes and stormed out.

The paper bounced a few times after ricocheting off the wall, then rolled gently under the bed, out of Kate's reach.

A silent, solitary tear slid down Kate's face, as she stared at the now-closed door.

* * *

><p>Rick sat in his study, staring out at New York. It was drizzling fitfully, and he tapped mindlessly, rhythmlessly, against the neck of the beer bottle he was holding, the ring on his finger making the sound metallic and harsh to his ears.<p>

The loft was empty, except for him. Alexis was at the OCME morgue, and Martha was out with friends. There was no-one there to stop him slowly descending into a drunken haze, then into a stupor as he knocked over a handful of beers.

The phone sitting on the desk next to him chirped shrilly, reminding him to fetch Kate's lunch. He glanced down at the screen.

With a sudden moment of clarity and fury, he seized the phone, and threw it. It flew through the door, and thudded with a crunch of glass into the kitchen tabletop, knocking over an empty beer bottle as it did so.

He sat there for a moment, then stood, swaying slightly as he did so, before snatching his keys from the desk beside him, and walking carefully out of his study, out of his apartment, and caught a taxi to the Old Haunt.

He pushed his way through the door, and descended gingerly down to the bar and sitting down at one of the booths. It was still only two in the afternoon, so Rick ordered lunch, and another beer, both of which he finished quickly, and so he ordered another beer.

And another.

And another.

Steve the barkeeper knew that, although his boss was generous, there were limits to the amount a person could drink, and even despite liver-crippling doses of beer all day, Richard Castle still seemed very sober, although much quieter than his usual, shout-out-to-the-crowd self.

It was four o'clock. He had just put away his ninth beer that day, and his fourth at the Old Haunt, when one of the waitstaff came over.

"Excuse me, Mr Castle, sir, would you like to slow down on the beer?"

"No," enunciated Rick carefully. "Fill it again."

* * *

><p>The phone trilled a few times, gently on the desk, contributing to the general noise of the bullpen in the 12th Precinct Homicide Squad-room. It sat unanswered on "Det K. Beckett"'s desk, and eventually stopped ringing. A few seconds of automated switching later, and another phone lit up and trilled, whereupon it was immediately answered.<p>

"Yeah, Ryan here."

"My name is Steve Jarvis. I'm looking for Detective Beckett," said an unfamiliar voice.

"I'm afraid she's not available at the moment. Could I assist you instead?"

"Well, maybe. I have a gentleman down here at the Old Haunt who is making a scene after I refused to give him another beer."

"Call the main line. We don't deal with drunk and disorderlies."

"I was advised to call this number for this gentleman. His name is Richard Castle."


	8. Chapter 8

_Hello, readers! No Castle this week, so have an extra chapter.  
><em>

_Oh, I hate writing melancholy. It makes me feel melancholy, and that is something I write to avoid. Sometimes, however, it's unavoidable, and so, in this case, it shall be done. Rest assured, however, that I'll get Rick and Kate back together again shortly, just as soon as Rick has drowned his sorrows in an infinite number of beers. No, I didn't do any research for this; I'm staunchly anti-alcohol. Even so, I hope I got the effect right. _Let's go back to Kate for a moment, tied up in hospital.__

_Showerings of confetti to Lessa22 and Chkgun93 for reviewing. Please review!_

* * *

><p>Kate turned the page, to find the light blue binding at the back of the pre-edit proofs of <em>Frozen Heat<em>. The last paragraphs wended their way down the left side of the open book, and she devoured them quickly, her eyes both skimming and absorbing with the same intensity that had made her such a good detective, and, in this case, such a good proofreader and editor. The story leapt out at her from the double-spaced lines of fixed-width text.

She reached the bottom of the page.

"_Nikki slowly slid her slowly unthawing fingers into those of Jameson Rook where he lay, and she looked down to his face, still slack but serious, rugged, handsome, still unconscious after being lifted from the deep-freezer._

"'_Oh, Jamie,' she said, her voice cracking, her words muffled slightly by the balaclava that had been slipped over her head by the paramedics that were now hovering around her and Rook._

"_She smiled at the absurdity of her expectation that he would respond, then slowly kneeled onto the concrete beside the gurney, her face level with his head, staring into his features that only now, watching him this close to death, riding the knife-edge of life, she realised that she truly loved him. Nikki's voice, quiet and soothing, penetrated into the slowly awakening consciousness of Jameson Rook, and his mouth twitched._

"'_Jameson Rook, I love you,' she declared quietly to him. 'I want to stay with you forever. I want to wear that accursed ring of yours. I want to have children with you, grow old with you, watch the world change with you. I don't want to be alone any more.'"_

The page ended, abruptly, and she knew that something was missing. This wasn't how it would end; she'd known Castle's books for so many years that knowing the endings was almost second nature to her now. It ended too happily. They weren't fighting, weren't opposing, weren't in some disagreement that would take another book to see out. And yet, there it was, clear as day.

She momentarily wondered if the other page would reveal matters, but discarded it from her mind, and pushed the book shut, trying to work out what to do about Castle.

* * *

><p>The object of her thoughts was, at this particular point in time, being led into his loft, using Ryan and Esposito both as a pair of crutches as he half-staggered, half-fell through the door. They carefully laid the semi-conscious Castle down on his couch, gave him a bucket, then Ryan grabbed a phone and summoned Martha.<p>

Richard Castle floated in a semi-conscious binge-induced haze, trying to wash away the nightmares, the fear, the hate, but failed at all of them, the alcohol making the images spin faster, blur together, until, finally, through the untuned white noise bouncing around in his skull, he realised that, try as he might, he could never forget Kate. She had simply changed him too much.

He vomited.

* * *

><p>Rick had not awoke with such a headache in fifteen years. The hangover was a blinding, searing agony crushing his skull, and he groaned quietly, before wobbling to his feet, and gingerly walking over to the kitchen to get a glass of water, with which he took a painkiller.<p>

He tottered back to the hall table, seized the wrap-around sunglasses, and rammed them onto his face, trying to reduce the light. The blinds, thankfully, were drawn, but he could see the shafts of sunlight piercing through them into the comfortable living space.

Martha Rogers swept down the stairs, immaculate and graceful as ever.

"Richard, you're awake. Excellent!" she exclaimed, causing him to once again groan, covering his ears from the onslaught of the cheerful and much too loud voice.

"Please, Mother, be a bit more quiet," whispered Rick in return, and even the sound of his own voice was unpleasantly harsh on his ears.

"I've heard about your exploits yesterday," said Martha, only slightly quieter, and her well-trained, smooth voice sounding like fingernails on a chalkboard to Rick's ears. "You get yourself off your face, falling over, blind drunk, and get brought back here like a regular old something. I'm pulled out of a luncheon party for Marea just to get back here to play doctor to you. It's almost ten, now; are you planning to go and see Beckett?"

Rick moaned, listening to the tap-tap-tap of Martha's shoes as they made their way around the kitchen. Creak, thump, clink, glug-glug-glug. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Martha's shoes were approaching again, the footsteps sounding like slow rifle fire.

"I'll take that as a no, then. Really, Richard, how can you be so irresponsible?"

"I had a bad day," whispered Rick.

"Like what? What could be bad enough that you have to put away far too much alcohol in one go like that?" Martha's voice had taken on an interrogative tone, and it reminded Rick too much of Beckett's voice when she was on the hunt in the interrogation room.

"I spoke to her. I lost my temper. I left her."

Martha just sighed, and put the glass down on the coffee table beside him.

"Richard, that woman is the best thing that's ever happened to you. At the very least, you could give her the chance to explain herself."

Rick looked slighty guilty; normally he was more rational than he had been the previous day, and he knew he had to go and see Kate Beckett again.

"I will, Mother.


	9. Chapter 9

_Aaaaaaargh! Writer's block! I'm just about to post chapter five this evening! Well, I can't attribute it all to writer's block. The past few months have been some of the most stressful I've ever had, and the next fifteen months will be even more so._

_So I had Rick passed out drunk on the sofa. "Now what?" I asked myself, and had to come up with a sufficiently non-tacky solution to the sticky situation. So I threw in a wild Martha, and let her try to catch the issue right in the teeth — and she did! Now, back to Beckett, who is, I believe, about to receive a visitor._

_Kudos to Chkgun93 for reviewing the unexpected Friday chapter (I was feeling a little deprived, so why not more Castle!). Please review!  
><em>

* * *

><p>It was quieter without him.<p>

That was the first thing she noticed.

It was also much lonelier without him, without his larger-than-life personality that spilled out of him, filling the room with his gift for recognising the story, as they talked.

The past day had dragged spectacularly slowly. Rick had stayed with her while the medical staff worked on her, and with him there, simply talking to her, she had almost never needed any painkillers, and yet, when her bandages were changed the previous day, the pain was almost unbearable.

And that night, the recurring nightmare of him laying bleeding in her arms, a sniper's bullet nestled in his chest, as her tears dripped down onto his face, as she confessed her love to him, as she watched him let out a last sigh, a little flower of blood bubbling from the corner of his mouth.

She hated to admit it to herself, but she missed him.

She hated to admit it, but she had fallen in love with him. And not just as a rabid fan; he'd grown to be a true friend over the four years she had worked side-by-side with him. She could imagine, at the end of a day at the precinct, slipping away with Rick, cuddling on the sofa in his loft with a glass of wine and a movie, or out at the Met, or curled up in bed together —

She stopped that thought in its tracks, but still felt herself warming to that secret fantasy. She struggled to stop her vivid fantasies of breaking down his door just to strip every inch of his clothing off with her teeth and making passionate love to him on his office desk from taking control of her body, wracking it with desperation for sweet release.

It was in the midst of this battle for self-control that there was a knock at the door. The manuscript that she was rereading mindlessly, eyes slipping over entire paragraphs, fell from her fingers, and she looked up to see the object of her fantasies standing in the doorway, almost causing her to lose control once again. He looked tired; his eyes looked dead and the bags beneath them spoke volumes, and Kate immediately zeroed in on that, her years with a badge making such little facts so prominent.

"I owe you an apology," said Rick, quietly.

"No, Rick, it's not your fault. I owe you one," said Kate.

Rick shook his head, and pushed the door shut, moving to sit on the visitor's chair by the bed. He took a deep breath, then started to speak.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for doubting you, sorry for pushing you, sorry for even being here. I can't do this any more."

"What are you talking about, Rick?"

"I can't shadow you any more. It hurts too much."

"What hurts you?"

"The fact that you hid that from me for so long. It makes me feel that you can't trust me, can't tell me things. I love you, and I know you feel the same way, but in the same instant, I don't know that you feel the same way, and I don't know what you're thinking. I've loved you for a long time, Kate. I've loved being with you, working with you, breaking cases open with you, but this? I can't be here any more. You don't trust me, and I feel like I'm being left outside your wall again."

Kate was silent for a moment, trying to absorb what he was saying.

"Kate, do you remember, when you found me signing _Heat Rises_? You said that you'd built up a wall, and I said we had to tear it down?"

Kate nodded, knowing again where the conversation was going, willing herself to say something, say anything, to stop herself from losing Castle again.

"I'm still outside that wall, and it's harder than ever. And you can remember being shot, surely you can let me in, help you tear down the wall, help you remember, and move on," he said, his voice getting quieter, and she looked up, to see tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.

"When I first met you, I'd just divorced Gina. I was looking for something different, something unusual, and when I met you, I thought, yes, she's interesting, she's different. And it's been my mission since then to try to discover why you're different to every other woman. I fell in love with you along the way, of course, but that didn't stop me wanting to know what made you so unique, so different. I wanted to know what made Kate Beckett tick."

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly drier than her sense of humour.

"So I pulled strings just to follow you around. And I wound up watching people trying to shoot you, people trying to kill you. I watched you bleeding out, dying in front of me, in my arms. Then I realised that I couldn't follow you forever — I loved you too much to watch you get hurt in the line of duty. And here we are," he finished, gesturing vaguely, then letting his arms fall.

Kate reached out one bandaged arm to him, bearing a symbolic olive branch, trying to empathise friendship and compassion to him, but to no avail; his brow remained furrowed, his blue eyes holding no sparkle today, only sadness. His hand twitched, although to reach forward and take hers, or to pull it back, she could not tell.

She didn't notice him stand, and move back towards the door.

"Rick."

He stopped, turned to look at her, as she spoke his name, trying to lace it with every ounce of persuasiveness she had, every bit of skill she had learned, mastered and developed breaking murderers in Interrogation. She tried to channel it all into one word.

She knew now that only one word held him to her now, one word with such power and strength as to bind him with chains of steel, shackle his limbs with manacles of pain and sadness.

She knew she could not botch it this time


	10. Chapter 10

_How was that **ending**? Cruella de Scrivendown is back._

_Yet again, this bloody story is giving me gyp. I wanted Rick to enter, talk, then leave. Sounds fine, right? Well, I just had to write the conversation, and it was worse than pulling teeth. I waxed poetic, and that just felt bizarre. I guess I shouldn't write during road trips. I hope the characters were authentic; it was mostly just me muttering to myself, trying to build the dialogue. I've also worked out where this story goes, in terms of a whodunnit (!), so there'll be some plot development soon. I promise._

* * *

><p>"Rick, I love you."<p>

A sudden burst of anger caused him to shout for, she thought, the first time.

"And you could have told me years ago, but no, you _insisted_ on sticking yourself in relationships you didn't enjoy with men you never loved. You _ran_, Kate Beckett," he spat, his normally smooth storytelling voice being swept away with the harshness of his mercurial anger.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I just… I couldn't face my feelings for you properly —" she began, but Rick cut her off again.

"You were scared, you wanted to keep me as just your partner, you didn't want to mix the precinct with paradise. And you know what? You could have faced your fears with me, you could have kept me as your partner, and we'd _never_ mix work and fun," said Rick, contempt lacing his voice.

As usual, it shocked her how well he could read her mind, but what he'd said was true; yet another thing she'd never admit to herself. She sat there, speechless, mouth opening and closing, trying to think of a way to keep him there, and coming up blank.

He turned on his heel, and left, the door hitting the frame with a quiet thud, belying the anger of the situation.

* * *

><p>The rest of Kate's burns were unwrapped a week later, the skin beneath still considerably more red than the usual light olive tone she cultivated. The broken bones were still setting, though, but were almost healed, and she was discharged with crutches for her right leg, which was still in a cast, and instructions to take it easy — her ribs were still a bit bruised.<p>

Her first stop was to Remy's for a momentary indulgence: a burger and fries, with a coke, which she ate quickly, before heading back to her apartment by cab. Along the way, she called Lanie.

"OCME, this is Dr. Parish."

"Hey, Lanie, it's me."

"Hey, Kate. You been let out?"

"Yeah. I'm heading home with some crutches."

"I'll meet you there this afternoon. I'll get out of here as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Lanie."

* * *

><p>The afternoon passed uneventfully. Kate re-read <em>A Rose for Everafter<em>, trying to visualise Rick as he sat at his desk, arm bandaged, typing furiously to make the deadline, as she read the story. Even through the dozen or so times she had read each of Rick's books, every time, something deep within her — the same thing, perhaps, that made her such a good detective: a supreme attention to detail and a love of exactness — would pick up a new and intricate layer of the story; something she had never seen in the narrative before that reading. Even knowing the ending, she still found it a great read — and in some ways, knowing the ending and who did it, _why_ they did it, made it an even better story.

There was a knock at the door, startling Kate from her reverie. The book slipped from her fingers and fell into her lap, and she scooped it up and put it on the table beside the sofa before she crossed to the door. She'd learned, from her experience with Scott Dunn, to _always_ have a weapon handy, preferably a gun, and she checked that she was still able to reach the holster at her waist, where her Sig Sauer nestled against her hip, bumping the crutches with each stride as she hobbled across the room.

She slid the dead bolt across, and pulled the door slowly open, one hand on the butt of her gun, caressing the hard leather and cold steel of the grip, filling her with the adrenalin she craved for moments like this. Her peripheral vision tightened, her heart rate accelerated, her breathing shallowed, and the world seemed to move slower and slower as she nerved herself to open the door.

She pulled it back, ready to pull the gun on whoever was standing on the other side, the blood thundering in her ears, as she eased the gun free from its leather prison.

Lanie Parish was standing on the other side, holding a large bouquet of flowers and a bag of Chinese takeaway.

* * *

><p>After some well-deserved wine and Chinese take-out, Kate and Lanie were sprawled on the lounge, a vinyl record slowly releasing the broad, clear trumpet of Miles Davis into the superb record player, then into the Bang and Olufsen sound system. Kate still didn't quite understand how she managed to rent, then buy the apartment with so much thrown in — Lanie had asked her about it, too, and she had no better answer than to say that RAR Trust Holdings must have been incredibly well-endowed to give away a top-notch sound system and a broad music collection spread between vinyl records, CDs and MP3s.<p>

"So, what have you heard?" asked Kate after conversation had slowed down.

"About the bomb? Nothing you've not heard already, Kate," replied Lanie, the wine glass swinging hypnotically in her hand as she gestured, the pinot noir swirling gently in it's transparent vessel.

"Well, I've not heard anything at all, except the sound of monitors beeping, for the last week or so."

"So the boys haven't told you?"

"About what?" Kate asked, her inner detective setting alarm bells ringing in the back of her head.

"They've examined your car. Your engine exploded."

"That was one hell of an explosion for an engine failure," Kate said vehemently.

"It had help," said Lanie, then stopped, listening.

There was another knock at the door


	11. Chapter 11

_I've never held a gun, much less fired one — it's on my bucket list, along with "buy a Segway PT" and "ride a helicopter". What's on your bucket list?_

_Anyone who spotted the sneaky reference in the last chapter, give yourself a showering of confetti and a big pan cookie. I'll explain it fully in a one-shot which I'm writing now._

_I was writing the gun scene while going across the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Just so you know. :-)_

_Freshly baked Anzac cookies go to BelleEpoque17, Rhyolight04, chkgun93, GipsyV and cavlik97 for reviewing - looks like the crowd's getting bigger. Please review!_

* * *

><p>Kate unconsciously eased her gun loose in it's holster once more, as she crutched her way across the room to the door. She slid the deadbolt across, and pulled the door open a crack.<p>

A small, blue-grey egg-shaped object rolled into the room, and Kate, without even thinking, kicked it back out into the hallway, slammed the door shut and bolted it, running across the room, grabbing a startled Lanie, and diving down behind the sofa.

There was a loud thud as the grenade went off in the corridor. The door, apparently sound-proofed _and_ blast-proofed, creaked in its frame from the violence of the explosion.

"What the hell?" asked Lanie, bewildered, as Kate got rapidly to her feet, her joints all groaning from the unexpected speed of her motion, drawing her gun and aiming it steadily at the door frame.

"Lanie, I want you to go and open the door," said Kate, struggling to keep her suddenly-tight voice quiet. The light alcohol haze was dissipating rapidly, to be replaced with the rush of adrenalin, as she started slowly moving towards the door in-stance.

Lanie quietly crossed the room, and got into position just beside the door, grabbing one of Kate's knife holsters from beside the door and strapping it on quickly. She held the doorknob, and paused while Kate grabbed her beltpack radio, clawing at the controls.

"Mayday, mayday, dispatch, this is one-lincoln-forty, one-lincoln-forty, no squawk, ten-thirty grenade detonation, requesting immediate heavy weapon backup," she muttered into the radio handset, rattling off her address, then threw it onto the couch.

She made eye contact with Lanie, and nodded, her aim at the door not varying. Lanie grabbed the doorknob, and wrenched open the door, just as a weight hit it violently from the other side.

"Hello, Detective Beckett," said the man standing in the doorway, lowering his foot, his voice dripping with condescension. He stepped forward, raising the monster of a rifle he held, and aimed it squarely at her.

Lanie slid a knife clear of it's holster, and with every ounce of strength, and the years of medical experience, delivered a crippling blow, just above the kidney.

The man tensed momentarily, then turned, the knife sticking out from his back.

"And what do we have here? Is this the good doctor, Lanie Parish, not above striking killer wounds?" he said, not seeming to notice the near-fatal blow that she had delivered. As she stood there, speechless, his fist came up suddenly to meet her jaw, and she went down like a marionette with its strings cut, her body becoming a ragdoll.

Kate sank three rounds into his chest.

He staggered backwards, then raised the rifle again, and she knew exactly what it was: a navy-issue sniper rifle, like the one that hung from the ceiling in her bedroom — the one that shot her.

As the metal monster aimed towards her, she felt her scars tingling, and knew that this time, there would be no Castle to try to save her, bumping her out of the fatal trajectory of the bullet. It would be just the two of them, and she knew that, in the space of a heartbeat, it could be just the one of them.

* * *

><p>As soon as the message had arrived, the Police Dispatch Centre had swing to life, arranging for the cavalry to be sent in, arming up a team equipped to deal with a war zone. All the staff of the 12th Precinct were sent out immediately to Detective Beckett's apartment.<p>

At home, Richard Castle sat at his desk, typing, when his phone lit up. It was Esposito.

"Yo, Castle, get over to Beckett's apartment ASAP — she's called in the troops."

"On my way," replied Rick, hitting save, grabbing his coat and dashing out the door, leaving a startled Alexis and Martha to watch him go.

He didn't bother with a car, knowing that he could get to Kate's new apartment faster on foot, and only a minute after he got the call, he had pushed through the door to another of his buildings, wondering where the doorman was. He scrambled up the stairs, to the third floor, where he burst into the corridor, looking up and down momentarily to orient himself. Then he heard the voice.

"Is this the good doctor, Lanie Parish, not above striking killer wounds," it asked, then there was the sickening sound of flesh meeting flesh, a crack, then a thud of a body hitting the floor, and with a wrenching feeling in his gut, he knew that someone else was in danger.

He drew his gun, an older Colt revolver, aimed it at the open doorway, noting the blackening around it, and how everything had ballooned away from the bomb.

Rick flipped the gun around, holding it butt-first, and edged slowly towards the man now standing in the entrance to Kate's apartment, the butt of the sniper rifle nestled into his shoulder, holding it easily.

He raised the butt of the revolver, and swung it down with all his strength onto the man's head.

Two gunshots rang out, and the man before him recoiled at the shoulder, the force of the backlash jerking him backwards, and there was a cry of pain from across the room.

The man before him fell, slowly toppling backwards, the rifle falling from his limp hands.

"Kate!" he shouted, seeing her standing there, gun slowly descending. He darted forwards, over the body of the sniper, and caught her as she fell, slowly, to her knees.

There was another sharp report of a gunshot.


	12. Chapter 12

_I'M ON A ROLL! A/N AT THE END!_

* * *

><p>Rick momentarily didn't feel anything, just a sudden pressure against his back.<p>

Then he felt the burning pain of the bullet scorching a path into him, causing him to scream.

The sudden sound shook Kate out of her momentary reverie. She rolled him over, watching his face as she did so, pressing her hands to the hole in his shirt just a fraction of a centimetre above the bottom of the Kevlar — why was he wearing his bullet-proof vest? — knowing that it had managed to slow the bullet just enough to leave it lodged inside him, instead of tearing its way through flesh and bone, leaving him bleeding out from front and back.

The thundering of footsteps along the corridor marked the arrival of the tactical team, as usual, too late for the real action, but Kate didn't hear them. She didn't hear the quiet moans of Lanie as she came to, slowly dragging herself across the room to Kate's side, but she didn't notice; she just stared into Rick's eyes.

"Stay with me, Castle. Don't go, please, don't go, just stay with me. You're not going to die — just stay with me, Rick," she said, her voice beginning to break from the tears that were slowly starting to form.

"Tired, Kate… so tired," murmured Rick, his voice dry.

"No, Rick, you know you can't sleep. Nessun dorma, Rick, stay with me, please," she said, capturing the Italian phrase perfectly, and making Rick's face twitch into a slight smile.

"Sing to me…"

"Rick, please, just stay with me, it'll only be a bit longer, just stay with me," she said, almost breaking down into tears.

"Kate, please, sing to me…" whispered Rick, and she relented. One hand snaked down into her pocket, and she quickly tapped through the music on her iPhone, before selecting a song to play through her sound system, one which Rick immediately recognised, and which Kate sang along to.

"_Tu pure, o Principessa, nella tua fredda stanza, guardi le stelle che tremano d'amore, e di speranza! Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me; il nome mio nessun saprà! No, No! Sulla tua bocca lo dirò quando la luce splenderà! Ed il mio bacio scioglierà il silenzio che ti fa mia!_"

The female chorale came in, with Lanie backing: "_Il nome suo nessun saprà, e noi dovrem, ahimè, morir, morir!_"

"_Dilegua, o notte! Tramontate, stelle! Tramontate, stelle! All'alba vincerò! Vincerò!_"

And Rick shouted the last word, holding it for as long as he could, holding the note exactly, as if it were he, not Kate, that had spent a year learning to sing opera —

"_VINCERÒ!_"

He passed out.

* * *

><p>Rick woke, feeling tight in his back.<p>

"Good evening, Mr. Castle. It is currently half past two in the morning. You were in surgery from nine until eleven thirty, and you're currently in intensive care," a light female voice said.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice a dry rasp.

"You were shot in the back with a sniper rifle," replied the nurse, and that brought back the memories immediately: rushing to the apartment, watching the brute getting shot, falling, then rushing to Kate, and feeling his back burn.

"Kate — where is she?" asked Rick urgently, and the nurse smiled.

"Detective Beckett left a moment ago to visit the bathroom. She came in with you, and has barely left your side all night."

The door swung open, and Kate Beckett stood there, her cream knitted jumper spattered with blood — his blood, he knew, and the thought chilled him to the bone. She slowly crutched into the room, and the nurse slipped out, as she saw he was awake.

She hurried across the room and swung onto his bed, laying the crutches down, leaned down, and kissed him gently, tenderly..

"You won, eh, writer boy?"

"What?" asked Rick, bewildered.

"You were shouting that you'd win. I'm taking it that you did win."

"Win? I'd win?"

"Yes. You've got a stunning tenor voice, by the way."

"What _are_ you talking about?"

"Don't worry about it, Rick," said Kate, reassuring him, and ensuring his curiousity was piqued.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You were shot," she said, her hand unconsciously going to her scar, her index finger pressed gently against the roiling tissue. "Same style bullet that was used when I was shot. Same gun, too."

"So, what, we're a matching set now?"

He smiled, his wit amusing him momentarily.

Kate smiled, too — the joke had been a good one — but turned serious. "You don't know how lucky you are. He could have killed you — hell, I could have shot and killed you, if I'd missed."

"You never miss," said Rick.

"If I'd shot you, I don't know what I'd do," she said, fidgeting with her jumper.

"If you'd shot me, I'd try and arrange for my lifeless remains to sue the city," he said. "And I'd curse you with a never-ending pile of paperwork."

She lightly slapped his arm.

"You know what? If you did that, I'd never tell you that I loved you again," she said, and the ease of how she said it made his breath catch.

"I love you, Kate."

"I love you too, Rick."

She leaned down again, and kissed him, gently, but the kiss got out of her control again. It built up, getting more and more ardent, until she broke off, breathing ragged, looked down at him and smiled.

"You've got to stop doing that in hospitals, Rick."

"You've got to stop encouraging me to do that in hospitals."

"Well, Rick, if that's how you want to see things," she said, slipping her jumper off, and letting it slide down beside her crutches. She stretched out alongside him, then rolled and snuggled up to his side, watching him, and her gentle weight slowly relaxed him, lulling him back to unconsciousness.

* * *

><p><em>Sorry, folks, I was on a roll trying to get that scene over and done with. Good grief, I love doing that. I didn't want to put Castle in hospital, but he'll recover much faster, and this time, they kiss again. Cookies and chocolate to whoever works out what Rick, Kate and Lanie are singing <strong>without<strong> the aid of Old Man Google — hint, it's a classical aria, and one of the major pieces of a tenor's repertoire._

_This chapter is dedicated to all fallen ANZAC servicemen. Lest we forget._

_I apologise humbly and sincerely to Doc Lee for the weapon. Doc Lee and Chkgun93 both get fresh ANZAC biscuits for reviewing. Please review!_


	13. Chapter 13

_Wow, that was hardcore. I've never written like three thousand words in one hit. I might try it again sometime. How many Firefly references were there in **Headhunters**? I lost count after the first handful inside the first ten minutes. Definitely looking forward to 4x22 and 4x23._

_Cookies are in order for LittleMissCastle, Chkgun93 and Divamercury for reviewing, and LittleMissCastle takes the prize for picking the aria: Nessun Dorma from Turandot by Puccini - yes, I'm an old soppy romantic._

* * *

><p>Castle was discharged a few days later, with some stern warnings to rest. He took the opportunity to start fleshing out the notes that he'd worked up with Beckett for <em>Explosive Heat<em>, while Alexis hurried around, getting ready to head off to college in a few days.

The doorbell rang, and Rick slowly eased himself to his feet, and hobbled towards the door in an effort to find out who was calling. It was Kate, who had herself just been discharged after having some X-rays done on her breaks, and Rick leaned down and kissed Kate gently: a proper welcome home kiss, not a deep passionate kiss, and Kate momentarily flashed forward, imagining herself coming through this very door, and Rick kissing her, asking how her day had been, and her children — her _children_! — came barrelling over to shower their mother with love; one boy and one girl.

She snapped back to the now, aware that Rick had just said something.

"I'm sorry, Rick, I missed that."

"I just said, 'come in,'" replied Rick somewhat sheepishly, wincing as he twisted his hip slightly too far and pulled the scar tissue.

"Looks like you need these crutches more than I do, Rick," she said, smiling, as she slowly crutched across the living space, and lowered herself down onto his voluminous couch, and a few minutes later, he joined her there, holding two glasses of water, and passed one to her.

There was a ringing silence, which Castle broke after a while.

"So, how did you go?" he asked.

"I'm fine. I can have my ankle back by the end of this week, and the crutches go back on Monday."

"That's good."

There was another pregnant pause. Beckett looked about to break the silence.

"Listen, Rick… I know I've not been the easiest person to get around with after I was shot, but I've almost gotten past it," said Kate.

Rick was silent for a moment, then had an idea.

* * *

><p>"Kate, I want to show you something," he said, wincing as he stood, then gallantly gave her a hand up and passed her the crutches.<p>

He led her into his office, and sat her down in his chair, standing behind it, and powered up the smartboard. He tapped in the password, but Detective Beckett had long since learned to key-read, _especially_ when the person was using an on-screen keyboard, and seemed to be typing so obviously slowly: "**a4l1w3a1y9s**". It took her a moment to work out it was.

And there, spiralling out on the screen in front of her was a murder board.

Her mother's murder board.

"What the _hell_, Castle? What is this?" she whispered, not trusting her voice.

"I wanted to help you. I wanted to solve her murder for you. I wanted to make everything better —"

Kate's phone ringing startled both of them. She fished it out of her pocket, switched on her professional face, and answered.

"Beckett."

"Yo, Beckett, it's Ryan. We've got an emergency."

"What's going on?"

"You know that guy that shot Castle?"

"Yeah, what about him?"

"He's just disappeared out of Holding."

"What?" Kate shouted. "Did anyone get him in the box and have a crack at him before he vanished?"

"Yeah, Karpowski had a quick chat with him. All she got out of him was that he was part of Operation Eclectics. Espo and I were watching from behind the glass."

"Was it being taped?"

"Well…"

Kate's eyes narrowed, even despite the phone.

"Please do not tell me that the recordings are now missing."

"Ah, well, the thing is," Ryan momentarily prevaricated, then gave up. "The tapes are gone."

Kate swore quietly.

"What about Gates? What does she have to say about this?"

"She's not heard about the missing tapes yet. Karpowski is in with her now —" he broke off, and in the background the screams of Captain "Iron" Gates could be clearly heard.

"I want those tapes and that man back here on my desk tomorrow, Karpowski!"

"I guess you heard that," muttered Ryan.

Kate's lips quirked. "Yep."

"So that's where we're at now. We're running the name 'Operation Eclectics' through every database we have, but we've not got anything yet."

"Keep digging, Ryan. I'll be off leave on Tuesday, so you and Espo do the best you guys can with Gates breathing down your necks."

"Copy that, boss."

He rung off.

* * *

><p>Rick sat on the low couch by the window, watching her reaction as he waited for Kate to respond.<p>

"How long… how long have you been working on this?"

Kate's voice had become cold, detached — no, not Kate, thought Rick. She's Detective Beckett now.

"Since you were shot."

She was silent again, for so long that Rick almost started bracing himself for another shooting.

"Who's this?"

She pointed at a file, with a blank face — that of the mysterious man who had helped Rick.

"I don't know his name. All I know is that he's somehow linked to your mother's murder, and your attempted murder. He called me, telling me that, as long as you don't touch her murder, he could stop them coming after you."

"Did he say who they were?"

"No, he didn't. He showed up again when we were investigating the Mayor — and told me the same thing; if I kept you away from the murder, he'd keep the murder away from you."

"And you didn't tell me this why?"

The force of the tone she used turned Rick's bowels turned to jelly.

"Because I knew that you'd go after him, too, and he's too tightly mixed up in this whole thing," he whispered.

Kate crossed the room to him in two long strides. He hadn't noticed her stand, and now she absolutely loomed.

"And now I _know_ I can't trust you," she snarled, before turning, and crutching out.

Rick shut his eyes, his expression pained.


	14. Chapter 14

_A little diversion, for a moment: let's chat to the baddies. Because everyone likes chatting to the baddies._

_Cookies and chocolate go to Chkgun93 and LittleMissCastle for reviewing. Please do review, my dear readers!_

* * *

><p>Andrew Goldstile knew that he'd have to lose the police uniform soon. Nonetheless, he was impressed that the NYPD still hadn't tightened up enough that Thomas Gage's trick still worked.<p>

Goldstile's car swung into a warehouse, through the loading dock. A few small flakes of paint pattered down onto the roof of the vehicle as he passed through the rolling door.

He rolled down his window, and pressed the inside of his forearm to a small reader, and the chip implanted deep within his arm tingled momentarily, before the little box lit up, and he drove forward, slowly.

The ground slowly swung down in front of him, and he followed the ramp down, carefully navigating the hairpin bends every hundred metres or so. Eventually, he pulled out into an underground parking complex, where he parked the car, then strolled across to a glass door, which hissed open before him, the chip in his forearm tingling again.

He stepped through, and stopped in the space about a metre square.

"Andrew Goldstile, SF119T32, Eclectics, return from mission."

The wall hissed open, revealing a passageway, and he hurried down it, going to his rooms first to shower and change, before making his way down to the Command Hub.

"Ah, Operative Goldstile. Come in."

Goldstile walked down the short staircase, onto the command floor. Around him, workstations were set up in a precision rank-and-file, all facing towards a giant storey-high screen at the far end of the room. At each workstation sat people dressed in grey jumpsuits, each bearing a stylised dragon motif on the back, very much like the one he wore now.

At the very back of the room, just behind him, was the head of Operation Eclectics — the Dragon. He sat at a small, mostly uncluttered workstation, that stretched almost the full width of the room, and at regular intervals were small piles of manila folders, each overflowing.

"Sir," Goldstile said crisply, then saluted. The man behind the desk nodded in acknowledgement.

"How went the mission?"

"Target Beckett, Katherine Elaine was not eliminated."

The man before him clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times.

"How?"

"She defended herself very well. I've got four slugs in my shield that need to be removed. I opted to play dead on the fourth."

"Witnesses?"

"Yes. Civilian, female, African-American, early to mid thirties."

"More likely than not, that's target Parish, Delanie Marea. OCME. Easy kill. Anyone else?"

"Civilian, male, late thirties, caucasian, dark brown hair, blue eyes."

"Target Castle, Richard Edgar, born Rodgers, Richard Alexander. He's currently priority two."

"Yes sir. Permission to complete and present my mission summary?"

"With all due speed, Operative Goldstile. Give it to Operative Meeks, in Admin."

"Thank you, sir."

Goldstile turned, and walked to his desk, where he logged in, and started filling out the mission report proforma, cursing his luck, and expecting a knife in his back at the next opportunity.

* * *

><p>Far across town, target Castle, Richard Edgar, sat at his desk, typing notes out from the murder board.<p>

The phone began chirping shrilly in it's cradle, and he reached across and grabbed it.

"Castle."

"Mr Castle, I hear you and Detective Beckett were shot after Detective Beckett was blown up."

Immediately, Rick recognised the voice: the mystery man who he had just spoken about.

"That's correct."

"I also have heard that the 12th Precinct is digging, looking for revenge."

"I'm not surprised."

"I have advised some old friends to place your house and Detective Beckett's house under some unnoticed protection. What happened was not expected."

"I wasn't expecting to be shot," said Rick, a touch of animosity in his voice.

"And we were not expecting you to be shot. I apologise."

"Look, Beckett knows about this whole thing now."

There was a creaking, as the phone handset protested under the incredible grip.

"Will she investigate it?"

"I have a good amount of money that says she will, immediately."

"Then you need to stop her. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Rick replied meekly.

"Good."

There was a click, as the line cut off.

* * *

><p>For a long while, Rick stared at the phone in his hand.<p>

That they had not expected him or Kate to be shot was unexpected, and not for the first time, he wondered who were the puppet masters in this incredible war game that so many of them seemed to be caught in the midst of.

He selected the contact for Kate, and hesitated, his finger poised over the call button.

Should he warn her?

Should he even try to contact her?

In this state of mind, he was sure, she would probably come back just to lay a dozen rounds into his chest.

He cleared the phone, and lay it back on its cradle, pondering his next move.

The front door clicked, and opened.

"Dad?"

Alexis' voice drifted in, like a balm for Rick's stressed mind.

"I'm in my office, pumpkin."

He carefully schooled his expression into a smile, as Alexis walked over, and relaxed against the doorframe, sunglasses pushed up into her hair.

"Hey, Dad, where's Grams?"

"Mother is out on town with friends. It's just us for dinner."

"Pizza movie marathon?"

"I'll do you one better. Dinner for two, then some laser tag."

Alexis' face split into a grin for the first time since he had gotten out of hospital.

"That sounds great! Let me put my shopping away and I'll come and help you."

"You went shopping?"

"Yeah, just some textbooks and some stationary, since all of mine seems to slowly leech out of my room."

Rick played his poker face. He knew _exactly_ where all Alexis' stationary was: in the drawers of his desk, tucked away for when he needed it. That said, it seemed to disappear out of _his_ desk fairly regularly…

"All right. Meet you in the kitchen in ten minutes."

"Okay!"

She darted over, gave him a hug, then darted back out again. A few moments later, he heard the sound of bags being carried away.


	15. Chapter 15

_So, the first scene is inspired by a moment I had this morning, when I was making Anzac biscuits with my dad. Then I thought, well, let's add Alexis. Perfect! I have, however, not the slightest idea what they are cooking. I confess I wasn't thinking in the slightest bit about it - but I do pay more attention in future chapters. Also, keep your eye out for lots of Penfolds Grange in the future._

_Kudos to Chkgun93 and LittleMissCastle for reviewing. Hope all my readers enjoy the unexpected surprise at the end of this chapter._

* * *

><p>Rick and Alexis Castle were hard at work in the kitchen, cooking up a feast for two.<p>

The delicate little dance they did, father and daughter laughing and chatting as they wove around the kitchen, fetching ingredients, grabbing utensils, was something that Rick knew he would miss when she left for college. Their easy, carefree moments like this were something he always looked forward to, and he paused, visualising Alexis and another man dancing around the kitchen, cooking for their children —

"Dad, the onions are burning!"

Alexis' voice snapped him out of his reverie, and he hurriedly stirred the sautéeing onions, hoping that they weren't too badly damaged, and thankfully, they weren't.

"You right, dad?"

"I'm fine, sweetie. I was just thinking that, in a few years, this could be you and your husband, cooking for your kids."

"Hang on, who are you and what have you done with my father? You don't normally like thinking about me having a family of my own," Alexis said, passing a jug of stock.

Rick took it, smiling.

"You interrupted me just before the bit I knew I wouldn't like. And anyway, what's wrong with me having grandchildren, apart from the fact that I'm still far too young to be a grandfather."

Alexis smiled, remembering that he'd said that a few years prior, when she had Feggin, the fake-baby-egg, as she diced a tomato.

There was the sound of a key grating in the front door lock, and the door swung open. Rick looked across to see just the person he wanted to see standing in the doorway.

"Kate!"

He crossed the room, still holding the wooden spoon he'd been using, hobbling rapidly to her, wrapping her in a huge hug, and planting a kiss squarely on her. She reciprocated, wrapping her arms around him.

"I'm sorry, Rick," she said, muffled by his shoulder.

"I know, Kate, and I'm sorry for not coming clean with you from the start."

She pulled back just enough to be able to see his face, and saw the sombre expression he had, knowing how much she loved him, and knew that she needed to put her outburst behind her.

"How did you get in, anyway, Kate?"

"I filched a key last time. I knew I'd need one, and I couldn't really count on you giving me one."

"Oh, you. Where are your crutches, anyway?"

"I didn't feel I needed them. They're in my car."

Rick sighed, knowing just how stubborn she was.

"Well, something smells good. Dinner cooking?"

"Yeah, Alexis and I were just cooking."

"Would you mind if I joined you tonight?"

"Come on in, Detective. We don't mind a bit."

* * *

><p>For the first time in many years, Kate was enjoying a proper family dinner.<p>

Even though they were not yet a family, she still felt that Rick and Alexis were almost a family to her, and she was grateful for the fact that Alexis, particularly, had taken her into the fold, but even through the slightly angry glances that Alexis gave her, she knew she needed to talk to the teenager.

She also guessed why, as she helped Rick and Alexis get the table cleared away, and Rick went to fetch whatever he had arranged for the evening. Alexis had, undoubtedly, seen the heartbreak she had caused him.

_No more_, she told herself. _I won't lead him on a chase any more._

Rick re-emerged, holding three bags, and Alexis squealed with delight.

"Laser tag, Detective Beckett?"

"I'd love to."

"Every man for himself, dad! No ganging up against me again!"

Alexis' interjection made Rick laugh.

"When did I ever gang up against you, sweetie?" he asked, as he handed her and Kate laser tag sets, before donning his own.

"Right, first round is every man for himself." Rick tapped at the laser tag system control panel, discreetly tucked away in one of the book cases, and then, with a massed trilling, the lights faded down, and they dispersed, silently. Rick saw the outline of Kate as she held the laser gunner

Rick opted for a mixture of the both, attempting to hold a stance like Kate's as he crept along behind the piano, fortifying himself in.

There was a beep, as the units came to life, and Rick cackled quietly — and immediately got shot.

"And that, Castle, is why you don't make any noise in a firefight. Haven't you learned anything from me?" Beckett's taunting voice drifted down the stairs.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>After seven rounds of laser tag, they decided to forego it for some ice cream and, for Rick and Kate, a glass of 1982 Penfolds Grange (which Kate absolutely adored), which soon had them all collapsed on the couch, watching one of Kate's favourite movies, <em>Serenity<em>.

Alexis decided to head to bed, and Kate and Rick both snuggled closer on the couch. Rick wrapped an arm around Kate, gently stroking her lower abdomen, and she relaxed gratefully back onto him, enjoying the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. They made no move to shift from their position, even as the credits rolled.

After a few minutes, Rick leaned down and kissed her, gently, and they both smiled at each other, before she reached up and pulled him back down to her lips.

"Rick, can I stay with you tonight?"

"Kate… are you sure you want this?"

She kissed him again, more passionately, leaving no doubt in Rick's mind what she wanted, and so he scooped her up, ignoring the pain in his chest, and carried her, bridal style, through his office, into his bedroom, and closed and locked the door behind him.


	16. Chapter 16

_Yes, that was coming. No, I don't want to write that scene (yet — add me to your author watch; there might be some M-rated excerpts when I get around to writing them)._

_I'd just like to warn very logical readers that there is some weird meta-reality stuff about half way into the chapter._

_My chapters are now longer to compensate somewhat for the hiatus, but fewer and further between. Sorry. Also, if your chapter lasts longer than four hours, consult a GP._

_Here's another carrot for LittleMissCastle and Chkgun93 for reviewing. If you're liking the story so far, please review and let me know! Please! Please! Please!  
><em>

_So, after a carefully placed fade to black, we fade back in again, to …_

* * *

><p>The trilling of Kate's phone in her discarded jeans woke her, and she reached up sleepily, slid it from the pocket where it hung on the bedhead, and answered it, not bothering to check who it was.<p>

"Beckett," she mumbled.

"Yo, we got a fresh one," came the bleary voice of Ryan.

She sat bolt upright, all trace of sleep disappearing in a huge rush.

"I'm on _leave_ this week! What bit about that do you not get?"

"… Beckett? Oh, I'm so, so sorry — it's an automatic reflex now," Ryan said.

Rick stirred, beside her.

"Wassamatter, Kate?" he mumbled.

"Umm… what was that, Kate?" Ryan asked.

"Kate? You all right?" Rick asked, slightly louder.

"Is that … _Castle_?" asked Ryan, incredulous.

"If there's nothing further you'd like to trouble me with, you can get along and investigate, before I come in _while I'm on leave_ and beat you to death with my crutches," Kate said, in a tone brooking no discussion.

"I … ah … yes, boss."

He hung up.

"What was that?" Rick asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and looking at the clock. It was barely past five.

"That was Ryan, on full autopilot, letting me know that I don't have a case."

Rick reached up, and gently pushed her tousled hair back behind an ear.

"Well, since we're already awake this early, should we make full use of it?" Rick asked, eyebrows waggling suggestively, barely able to wipe the smirk from his face.

"After last night? I need all the sleep I can get. And I thought _I_ was the fit one."

Rick laughed softly, a beautiful, deep laugh that had Kate kissing him passionately again.

* * *

><p>Only a few hours later, they decided to opt for breakfast. It was seven; Alexis wouldn't be up for another few hours, and Martha was still out. Rick had a quick shower, then came out, mostly dressed, to see Kate standing in the kitchen, wearing <em>only<em> one of his shirts. She was making pancakes. Of course.

Rick grabbed the steaming mug of coffee sitting on the bench.

"Good morning, Writer Man."

"Oh, I'm Writer _Man_, now, am I?"

"After your demonstration last night? Your manhood is no longer in question."

Rick smiled, as she flipped a pancake from the griddle onto the waiting stack, then poured some more batter out.

"You know what I realised while we were watching _Serenity_? I know why the boys call it riding 'fillion.'"

"And why is that, Kate?"

"One, it's like you're riding pillion to me; always just behind me. Two, you look like Nathan Fillion. A lot like Nathan Fillion."

"Well, I have heard that on occasion."

"So they boys sort of made a portmanteau —"

"You used portmanteau correctly. Do you know how —" Rick interrupted, but was himself interrupted by the arrival of Alexis.

"Morning dad, morning mum," said Alexis, then she clapped a hand over her mouth, looking absolutely mortified. "I'm so sorry, Kate, I didn't mean to —"

"It's all right, Alexis. You can call me mum if you want."

"It just feels so… _weird_," said the teenager, then stopped as she picked up the paper, and shuffled around the kitchen making breakfast while reading it, starting the coffee machine, going to the fridge. Kate made another note to talk to the teen about the situation between her and Rick.

Alexis turned, opening her mouth, then hurriedly turned back again, blushing slightly.

"Um, Kate…"

"Yes, Alexis?"

"Could you put some more clothes on? No offence or anything, but it's just a little weird to have someone wearing that little standing in the kitchen."

Kate attempted to stay solemn and retain all decency while walking to Rick's bedroom to retrieve her clothes.

* * *

><p>Saturday morning was atypically slow for Rick, even despite the exploits of the night before. He was still amazed at her stamina, but then again, he was still amazed by the rest of her, her sheer … <em>badassness<em>.

They spent a while lounging on the couch, just enjoying the other's company; Alexis was out at the OCME office, helping out with the body that dropped that morning, and thus, it was just them, relaxing.

"Rick…"

"Yes, Kate?"

She paused a moment, feeling the gentle, soothing vibrations of his voice running through his chest and into hers, relaxing her to a state of bliss.

"I'm sorry."

"You've already said it once, Kate."

"I know, it's just… I've never had a relationship like this. Like _us_. It's like we've taken off from a standing start," she said.

"I've never known anyone like you — no-one with your strength, your beauty, your badassness," he said, and she chuckled gently at the last descriptor.

"I really enjoy what we have as partners, but now… after last night, after today, I think we can be better together."

"I do too."

"And you know what?" she said, rolling over so she could stare squarely at Castle.

"Wh-what?"

"We can solve it. We can solve my mother's murder. I want to solve it with you."

"Kate?" Rick sounded startled, shocked.

"I want you to be with me. I'm going after the sons of bitches who went after my mother, and I'm going to take them down, and I want someone with me, someone who will stop me doing the stupid things when I'm going to." She was on the verge of tears now, and Rick didn't know what to say or do — so he improvised, wrapping his long muscular arms around her, and pulling her closer.

"Kate, I swear, if you want me beside me, so be it. I'll be with you for as long as you need, and I'll stay there, even if you send me away."

"Rick, please…"

"Kate, I know I'm not a cop. I know I'm not a human bullet-proof vest. But I want you to come home at the end of the day, knowing you've made a difference in the world, and I can't do that without you."

She was speechless for a moment.

"Kate. I trust you with my life."

"And I trust you with mine."

"I know that if you didn't come home, I'd be…" Rick trailed off.

Kate's mind wandered momentarily, and she saw Rick, holding a casket, dressed in black, alongside Esposito, Ryan, Lanie, Alexis and Gates, as they walked in lockstep along the main, meandering avenue of a cemetery, now lined with police officers of all ages and ranks, and then she saw him gently caressing the timber of the coffin as it was slowly lowered into the ground, his tears streaming down onto the varnish. She heard the imagined Rick whisper, "Goodbye, Kate. I love you."

* * *

><p>Kate snapped back into the present, and burst into tears, her already emotionally weakened state shattered by the momentary vision.<p>

She never wanted to see that expression on his face.

"Kate? Are you all right?"

Rick sat up, looking concerned, as she sat bolt upright, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I… can't…"

"Kate, honey, shhhh, it's all right, I'm here, just relax, it'll be all right," he repeated, over and over, rocking gently to and fro as she cried herself out in his arms.

After a few minutes, he looked down, to see she had fallen asleep in his arms, curled up in a ball. He looked down at her, and gently, tenderly, leaned in and kissed her cheek as she slept. They stayed like that for a few minutes, before Rick picked her up once again, and slowly carried her through the loft and lay her out on the sprawling bed, noting the mussed bedclothes and quirking his lips slightly.

He quickly scrawled a note on a piece of paper that he grabbed quickly from his desk—

_Getting you some of your clothes, back in 20 ~Rick_

— and lay it on the bed side table, beside her. Her hair fanned out around her head, making it look as if she had a glowing chestnut-amber aura, and her face, smooth and gentle, was relaxed and peaceful. He slipped into his brown leather jacket (he'd eventually retrieved it from Slaughter), and quietly left the apartment, picking up Kate's keychain.

At her apartment, he slipped in and packed a mid-size suitcase with some clothes and dropped a toiletry bag into it, not bothered or inclined to examine the contents, knowing how secretive that women were about it.

He glanced around the bathroom, and his eyes lit upon a gentle, abstract print of a cherry tree, complete with a pressed cherry blossom, and he smiled, as he picked up the bottles of shampoo and conditioner sitting beside the shower stall, and placed them into a plastic bag.

He also took the liberty to clean out her fridge, noting that the Styrofoam temple he had quipped about the last time he was here was still present and growing healthily, and he wondered momentarily how she kept herself so fit while she ate out so much. Side-tracked by his domestic moment, he also cleaned up the rest of the apartment, and put out the rubbish.

He guessed that her presence at his loft would increase now that they had actually started sleeping together, and grabbed a few oddments on that basis.

On a whim, he also slipped some of the more expensive items from the room into the suitcase he had — the memory box, the advance reader and first edition Nikki Heat books, as well as a few photos and albums and books, her laptop and the murder board.

He locked up, making carefully certain that the place was secure, and walked back down the corridor.

He did not see the man standing in the shadows, the small silver insignia over his breast showing a stylised dragon, and he didn't see him slip a wafer-thin package under the door to the apartment.


	17. Chapter 17

_As I write this, I've just watched 4x22 "Undead Again". For the second night in a row, I'm going to have nightmares: I watched the Fringe pilot yesterday, and that made my jaw drop. Quite literally._

_Now I'm absolutely fanboying about 4x23, which, by my reckoning, should be well up by the time this chapter is up._

_I've sketched ahead up to chapter 20 working out what'll happen; I've decided that Kate is **redacted** and that Rick (well, **redacted**) is a **redacted** who's **redacted**. Intrigued? Keep reading._

_This chapter should jack us up over the 20kw mark, so welcome to new readers with the 20,000 word filter!_

_Kudos to gumbyny7, LittleMissCastle, jackiieeex13 and Chkgun93 for taking this humble story up to 34 reviews. My reviewer crowd seems to be growing…_

* * *

><p>Kate stirred in the sheets, finding them cold, and noted that everything smelled of Rick, and that fact soothed and relaxed her. She glanced across to the note, read it quickly, then sighed, before swinging out of the bed and grabbing a bath robe.<p>

She slipped into the bathroom, and tapped the play button on the waterproof touchscreen wall-panel — of _course_ Rick had a control for his entertainment system in his bathroom — and ran herself a bath, humming along to a Mozella song.

As she drifted in the slowly-cooling tub listening to the music shuffling through the collection, recognising this, singing along to that, she spotted the spa controls, recessed into the bath wall, and immediately started the spa, while she thought.

She wanted to do something big for Rick. An appreciative thank you, and not just for the night before — for all the things they had done together, for all of the affection that he'd shown. An intimate dinner would be just the thing.

She lay there, soaking, thinking, planning.

* * *

><p>Kate bustled about after Rick returned with clothing, making a shopping list, going shopping, and beginning to cook. Rick took the opportunity to stay out of the way, summarising his notes from his murder board, and starting to sketch out the murder for <em>Explosive Heat<em> with renewed vigour.

Rick collected two sets of papers in manila foolscap folders, one of which he attached a few assorted tags to and filed in the wall of low filing cabinets behind his desk, before putting a second copy on the table before him, and waited for his behemoth of a laptop to power down — it's old age was beginning to show through, and Rick knew it was time to start browsing for a replacement for it.

Rick wandered out, in search of the smell of food, to find Kate lining a baking dish with a piecrust. Around her, all three ovens were on, food carefully prepared on all surfaces, a few assorted pans on the stove bubbling or sizzling quietly.

"Well, now I know where you get the knack of being organised," said Rick.

"And I'm still at a loss to work out why you have such a wonderful kitchen," said Kate, gently painting an egg-wash onto the piecrust with a pastry brush.

"So, whatcha cooking?"

"You'll find out at dinner, _honey_," she said, lacing the last word with sarcasm.

"Aren't you feeling domestic today?"

"You'll find out this evening. Now, how about you leave me the house for the rest of the day? Why don't you take Alexis out clothes shopping?"

"Are you _trying_ to torture me?"

"Yes, I am, rather. And when you get back, get into one of your tuxedos."

"Okay, what _aren't_ you telling me?" asked Rick, slightly frustrated.

"So much, Castle, so very much," smiled Kate angelically, as she slid the dish into one of the ovens, and pulled a tray of what looked like breadsticks from another.

* * *

><p>"Oh, wow."<p>

"Do you like it?"

"It's amazing. I love it, Kate."

Rick stood in a tuxedo before the dining table by the big picture-window, looking out over New York. Four places had been set.

"Do you normally plan romantic dinners?"

"Well, I _was_ going for romantic. Then I remembered Alexis and Martha, who are going to be joining us. So no funny business."

"Since when do I ever do any funny business?" asked Rick, looking wounded, but the quirk of his lips gave him away.

Kate just glared.

"If you must know, I always plan for a big dinner on Saturday evenings. It's just I normally get distracted and wind up with a perp, a case file and a greasy pizza."

"Sounds delightful. Speaking of delightful, what's dinner?"

"Let's see. For starters, we have an Atlantic salmon and saffron risotto with a hint of lavender, complemented by a sweet-dry botrytis semillion aperitif."

"You raided my cellar?"

"Of course. Only the best wines for Monsieur," said Kate.

"Anyway, that's followed by a chicken breast and summer vegetable pie-cross-casserole served with a light Greek salad and some home-made breadsticks — and, by the way, I love the ovens. With all that, I grabbed one of the bottles of 2007 Penfolds Grange."

"Do you know how much it costs for a bottle of that?"

"About $700, I believe, at Cosco. Anyway, I _liked _it," said Kate defensively.

"So what's dessert?"

"Dessert is a Fruits of Passion meringue, then some flaming ice-cream, and with that, I've picked an apple cider. After that, I've got a little nightcap for you."

"Wow."

"Would you care to be seated?"

Rick eased himself into a chair, noting how well Kate took over his home and played his hostess.

"Martha? Alexis? Your dinner is ready," called Kate up the stairs, and only a moment later, Alexis came down, wearing a stunning snug-fitted cocktail dress, followed by Martha with her 'do-it-big-or-not-at-all' hat and a matching crimson-and-vermillion dress.

"This is like a dinner party in my own home."

"It's just my way of saying thank you."

"Kate… you know that you don't have to."

"Ah, yes, but I want to, and when I want to do something, it takes more than an irritating writer to stop me," said Kate, momentarily looming over Rick, face mere centimetres from his.

"Do you know how sexy you are when you do that?" murmured Rick.

"Yes, I do," purred Kate, then switched from seductress back to genial host as she escorted Alexis and Martha to their respective seats.

* * *

><p>The dinner had passed mostly uneventfully. Alexis, Rick and Martha had all complemented Kate on her cooking abilities.<p>

"You know, you're welcome to live here and join the cooking rota — something that Mother has somehow avoided," said Rick.

"Really, Richard, I do my fair share of work around here," said Martha, a joking tone in her voice.

"I'm not that great a cook, really. My mother was infinitely better than me, and I simply try to make her recipes as faithfully as I can — which I almost never can. This is the closest I recall making them to the originals."

"Well, you're still welcome to stay here and use our kitchen for your own devious purposes," piped up Alexis.

Kate chuckled.

There was a quiet, muted _thud_ from through the window.

"What was that?" asked Rick, worried.

"Oh, probably just a car backfiring. This is New York, for heaven's sake — backfiring cars are part and parcel of life," said Kate, but noted the looks of worry on both Rick and Martha's faces.

"Not through these windows. These are all triple-glazed units, UV-resistant, toughened, and sound-proofed. Any sound that gets through them is incredibly loud."

There was a second, louder _thud_, and Kate peered out. Across the street, a few pedestrians were clutching their ears, and a few windowpanes had developed sudden spiderwebbing.

Rick immediately swivelled around, flicking the television on and switching to a news channel from the media remote on his phone, which was broadcasting news of a major explosion in New York.

"Oh, Richard, that's just a few streets away from here," said Martha, looking grave.

"I'll call around and see what's going on," said Rick.

Kate's phone lit up on the kitchen tabletop, and she excused herself to jog across and answer the insistent trills.

"Beckett," she said firmly, "and this better be good."

"Beckett, are you all right?" came the panicked shout of Javier Esposito.


	18. Chapter 18

_OH WOW!_

_… although, my only comment about 4x23 would probably be that it really didn't end where I wanted it to. About 35 minutes in (of the 42.5 minutes), I look down to see how long is left, and thought, hmm, there's something missing._

_So what I wanted to do as I redid some of my sketches of Eclectics was to unify where 4x23 Always ended. This is, of course, an AU (which I shall call, for the sake of argument, the Eclectiverse), but I like to keep some continuity._

_Yes, I actually had my culinary head on last chapter. It also happens that there's some great controversy as I write this in Australia, about Woolworths and Cosco stocking the latest Penfolds Grange from 2007 for about $600-$700 a bottle, so I thought I'd work that in too._

_Bravo to Farenheight533, someguyshere, Chkgun93 and LittleMissCastle for reviewing. Y'know, there's a nice big blue button down at the end of this chapter; please press it!_

* * *

><p>"Esposito, what's the problem? What's going on?"<p>

"You need to get out of there as soon as possible. How's the building holding up?"

"The building I'm in is absolutely fine."

"And it's not on fire?"

"No."

Esposito paused, then continued, a little calmer. "I take it you're not at home?"

"No, I'm not," said Kate. And then the inner detective started ringing alarm bells as it joined the dots…

"Esposito, was that _my_ building that got blown up? _Again_?"

"Uh, yeah…"

"I'll be there as soon as I can," said Kate, and rung off, walking back to the dining area with the phone in a death grip that sent rainbows fluttering across the screen.

"What's happening, Kate?" asked Rick, seeing her agonised expression.

"My building got blown up! Again! All my stuff, just gone!"

"And the insurance will cover it."

"… how do you know, Rick?"

"Well," said Rick, then stopped, wondering how to phrase what he was about to say. "Because it's my building."

"I'm sorry, _your_ building?" asked Kate, looking puzzled momentarily.

"Yeah," said Rick, looking up at her. "I own it."

"No, you don't. There's a trust group that owns the building."

"For a trained detective, Kate, you're certainly missing the obvious. RAR Trust Holdings? RAR? Richard Alexander Rodgers?"

Martha smirked, enjoying the exchange.

"You own that building!" said Kate, a tone of disbelief decorating her voice.

"Well, yeah. After your place got blown up and you moved in here temporarily, I thought, well, what if I had a building for you to move in to? And I remembered, well, I did. I'd just bought a building near my loft in the name of my trust account for my asset diversification strategy, then I went and renovated one of the places myself to your tastes, bought fittings and furnishing, even that media system, which I gather you liked. I got Ryan to slip the estate agent's printout in your in-tray, and you took the bait. I know about the background checks, by the way."

"How is your name not on those accounts? I ran them through the IRS!"

"Ah, yes, well, that's why I have a financial advisory group who look after all of it."

"Pendlebury Financial Solutions. Yes, I know."

"So, yes, I know that the insurance will pay for everything."

"But what about _my_ stuff? My clothes! My shoes! My …" She stopped, knowing that Alexis and Kate were listening.

"I got all of that."

"You _what_?"

"Yeah. I had a feeling, so I just grabbed piles of stuff and chucked in the suitcase I brought."

"You brought a _suitcase_? Where is it?"

"I put it away when I got back from your place; I was thinking that you could open it after dinner. I grabbed some books, your memory box, some photo albums, some other stuff."

Kate knew exactly what the _other stuff_ was: her mum's murder board and the case files with it. Not for the first time, Kate thanked every god in the universe for Rick's foresight.

"Oh, Rick!"

She darted across the room, and flung her arms around him, nuzzling up to his cheek, the tears flowing now.

"I love you," she murmured, crying without abandon, not caring that Alexis and Martha had seen her lose control, not caring that her dress was being crushed as she curled up in his lap, only caring for the man before her.

* * *

><p>Kate had dragged Rick out after they'd finished dessert and started the dishwasher, and sent Alexis and Martha to bed. She threw a NYPD hoodie on over her cocktail dress, and nearly kicked down the front door, Rick trailing behind her.<p>

They had half-walked, half-jogged the way to Kate's old apartment building, and watched as two FDNY crews tried to extinguish the fire. Kate walked up to the nearest firefighter, pulled out her badge — where was she keeping it _this_ time, Rick thought to himself — and asked what the situation was, shouting over the rapid rhythmic thundering of pumps and the merry crackle of flames.

"The situation, detective, is that the building is on fire."

"Anyone injured?"

"We've got a few people out, but it's not looking promising," shouted the firefighter, his hoarse voice barely audible over the din, adjusting a knob on the pump controller in front of him.

"Okay, thanks," Kate replied, before pushing through the crowd gathered around the traffic barriers that had been put up, and spotted Rick, lingering a handful of metres behind the bulk of the crowd.

"Nothing. Absolutely no news," she said to him.

"Hardly surprising. Where was the badge?"

"Unimportant. What interests me is that they seem to be very tight over whether anyone's died."

"Did you tell them you were a homicide cop? And where was the badge, Kate?"

"I just ID'ed myself by my badge and name. No need for everyone to know what I do, although thanks to you, everyone already knows who I am. Look, it's cold, and if there's anything, I'm sure the boys will try to call me, and I'll bite their heads off," said Kate calmly.

"Okay, let's go home. But I will be, ahaha, _badgering_ you about where the badge was."

Kate stared at him, a slight smile lighting her face. She knew she had his full attention, and enjoyed the shocked reactions she saw dancing across his face as she slid the badge back into her cleavage.

* * *

><p>Rick yawned, rubbing his eyes, to see Kate sitting beside the suitcase which was now lying on the floor by the bed, and picking through the contents.<p>

"Why did you bring these things back?"

She sounded awake, and very curious. Rick wondered how long she'd been up for.

"I just … had a feeling. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

"What was it?"

Rick ran his hands through his hair, taming the ruffled mess. "I really don't know. My gut must have mystical powers."

Kate snorted.

"But here it is, the important stuff. I don't think I missed anything."

"Did you see anything wrong with the place when you went through it?"

"No, nothing. I went around and checked everything was locked up on my way out. Oh, and I cleaned up your fridge and put the rubbish out."

Kate laughed, but it sounded slightly hysterical and breathy, and Rick rolled himself out of the bed to sit beside Kate, rubbing her arms as she looked through the haphazard mess, commenting on things as she pulled them out.

"The advance reader copies of Heat Wave, Naked Heat and Heat Rises?"

"Yeah. I know how much pain you set upon me to get a copy of them. I also brought your signed first-editions of them as well. I can replace all my other books with first edition copies, too."

Kate's face pulled into a slightly watery smile, then she turned her attention back to the bag.

"My antique books!"

She stroked the ageing leather covers reverently, as she picked them up and stacked them beside her.

"And the photo albums… and my laptop…"

She lay down in his lap, holding the stack of photo albums.

"Do you know how long it took me to get all my photos back after my place blew up last time?"

"No, I don't, Kate."

"It took me a year. A whole damn year of phoning friends, asking if they had any of my photos, bugging Dad to go through the boxes in the attic, getting what was left of the films that were still mostly intact restored and printed…"

She took a deep, steadying breath, the tears threatening to fall again.

"And because of you, I don't have to do it all again."

Rick gently pulled her up into a sitting position, wrapping her in a bear hug, and pressing kisses into her hair. She curled up against him, drawing comfort from his warmth, and they sat there for a long time.

* * *

><p>They pulled apart when Kate's phone rang.<p>

"Damn," said Rick, as she pulled the phone out.

"What?"

"You know what I forgot?"

"What?"

"Your charger."

Kate laughed once, then answered the phone, the mirth still tinging her tone.

"Beckett."

"Yo, Beckett, Gates wants you back in here to investigate the homicides from the explosion last night." Esposito's voice was graver than usual.

"And Ryan knows what my response will be: if she wants me, I'll come in and beat her to death with my crutches. I'm on _leave_, dammit!"

"I'm telling you now, she's not going to take it well. You heard how she chewed out Karpowski — she took out Velasquez and McNulty today, and she's stewing now, looking for any excuse to kill someone and bury the paperwork."

"All right. I'll come in later today."

"Thanks, boss."

He rung off, and Kate sighed, curling back into Rick's gentle, loving embrace for a few minutes longer, before picking herself up.

"What's up?"

"Well, if I'm going to get into the precinct sometime today, I've got to get ready," she said, plucking a change of clothes from the bag, and wandering into the bathroom.


	19. Chapter 19: Upset Balance

_And I wondered where the badge was, too…_

_Kudos to anyone who spotted the out-of-place name in the last chapter. If you didn't, well, detective Brian McNulty was the name used in the original pilot script for the character now known as Kevin Ryan._

_Look, I'm sorry to any fans of Victoria Gates. I know that we don't really have too much of an idea of what she's like, but I have some ideas. My long-term plan is to have her **redacted**, which is something to look forward to, I suppose, if you don't like her. Be aware, though, that I will not pull any punches while I **redacted** her._

_Being a male writer is kinda hard here. I can't really do all the deep thought behind Kate Beckett, but I do my best. Please let me know if anyone seems out-of-character._

_Liberal showerings of praise for Chkgun93 and LittleMissCastle. If you want more regular updates on my writing, follow me on Twitter; I'm scrivendown over there._

* * *

><p>Detective Katherine Beckett slowly crutched out of the elevator and into the bustling Homicide squad room as the doors binged open. Ss fhe carefully navigated the patchwork maze of desks, and most of the cops saw her mildly disabled state and carefully avoided her while hurrying about their duties.<p>

"Beckett!"

"Yes, Captain?" called Kate, not bothering to turn.

"I take it you're off sick leave?"

Kate stopped in her tracks. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ryan and Esposito falling over themselves as they ran to one of the conference rooms, and barricaded themselves in, preparing for the carnage.

She turned, slowly, the clack of crutches loud in the sudden ringing silence of the bull pen.

"No, Captain," said Beckett quietly, ominously.

"Well, why are you here?"

"I'm here as a courtesy, Captain. I heard about the building explosion last night, and thought I might come in and lend a hand. If I'm not needed, then I'll leave, then, shall I?" The flat tone that Beckett used scared the hardened officers and detectives now watching the exchange with bated breaths, and yet Gates missed the subtleties of her voice.

Beckett sighed internally. This woman could not spot the obvious on the end of a sledgehammer; how she ever made Captain was beyond her.

"No, Detective Beckett, your presence here is most useful."

"Thank you, _sir_," she said, lacing the word with undisguised sarcasm, which Gates missed once again.

"Where's Mr Castle?" asked Gates.

"He's going to be a bit later than usual; he's got some paperwork to deal with."

"Ah, paperwork, bane of our profession," said Gates, smirking evilly. "I'm sure he's enjoying doing it for a change."

"It's a miracle he's doing it at all. Don't knock it," said Beckett, her tone sharp, and finally, the tone she'd been using penetrated the apparently quite thick skull of Victoria Gates.

"Indeed, Detective," said Gates, the same acid tone in Beckett's voice mirrored in her own.

Beckett turned, and began making her way back to her desk, watching cops unfreeze themselves around the bullpen. Ryan and Esposito slowly emerged, and made a beeline for Beckett's desk.

"What the hell was _that_?" asked Ryan.

"What the hell was what?" replied Beckett, smiling angelically, as she pulled a set of files towards her.

* * *

><p>Castle showed up at about ten, carrying a crate filled with manila folders, and perched precariously atop the lot were two takeaway coffee cups and a paper bag, going slightly transparent in patches with oils leaching from the still-warm bear claw.<p>

"Good morning, detective," he said, his voice calm and professional, but his eyes twinkling.

"Good morning, writer man," she said, her voice crabby and irritable, but her eyes twinkling in return.

"I just brought along a couple of oddments for you. And some coffee, too," he added.

"Thank you," she said, her stern expression dissolving into a smile.

"So, what have we got so far?" Castle stared intently at the murder boards set up by Beckett's desk.

"Well, CSU confirmed the location of the blast seed," began Beckett. "CSU also confirmed what the explosive used was, and the residues match those found in what's left of my car. There's not enough left to determine what the actual explosive was housed in or triggered by, but according to one of the bomb techs, it's a good bet it was remotely triggered."

Esposito, who had made his way around to the murder boards too, chose this moment to continue. "Ryan's looking over security camera footage; there's a lift cam and cameras covering the foyer and stairwell, but so far, he says, there's nothing out of place."

"My bad, guys. I knew I should have had the security upgraded," Castle said apologetically, and Beckett punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"You've been around here long enough to know that, writer man."

"Perhaps, Detective Beckett, you need to reinforce the lessons you've taught me, then," said Castle, one eyebrow raising, lacing the sentence with suggestion.

Beckett stood, pulling herself up to her full height, even supported by crutches, and stood, nose-to-nose with Castle.

"Perhaps you just won't _learn_ the things I teach you," she hissed back at him, sounding like a feral cat.

"Or maybe you just need to teach them to me better," said Castle, eyes crinkling with the smile plastered across his face, then sat down, snagged a file from off Beckett's desk, and began to read.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, with Ryan pouring over video footage from every camera he could get his hands on, Esposito pouring over phones and financials, Beckett took a break to pour herself a coffee.<p>

"You know, after that little display back then, I have a right mind to rip all your clothes off and teach you many lessons," said Beckett, knowing that Castle was standing beside her, but not looking up from the espresso machine.

"Why don't you, then?"

Beckett turned off the steam head, put the jug of half-frothed milk down, and turned to face Castle, once again nose-to-nose with him.

"Because we are at work. And when we are at work, there are no PDAs, no funny business. I know they've got a pool going on us

"What? Since when?"

"For a few years now. Apparently Lanie stands to win almost a thousand dollars, from the rumours I've heard."

Castle looked both impressed and embarrassed, as Beckett turned back to the machine.

"Well, with odds like that, I'd like to be on Lanie's side."

"Sure. But do not, under _any_ circumstances, let the boys know about us. I want to keep 'em guessing for as long as possible."

"Keep who guessing?" asked Ryan, walking into the break room holding his coffee mug, and evidently having only heard the last few words.

"Don't worry. Castle's just enlightening me on his poker techniques against the New York Times' bestseller list."

Castle was impressed at her quick thinking.

"So, Ryan, have you got anything?" asked Beckett as Ryan poured himself a cup of the pre-brewed coffee from the heated jug.

"Just a whole load of nada so far. It's night, too, so there's shadows everywhere. I've got another six hours of footage to go through, though," he said, spooning sugar into the coffee, and stirring it quickly.

"All right, keep me posted," replied Beckett.

He nodded, heading out.

"Nice one," said Castle quietly.

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one around here that can come up with good stories quickly."

He smiled, and followed her back to the desk.

* * *

><p>Ryan came good an hour later.<p>

"I've got a still of a man I can't identify. He's not a tenant. Doorman logs were badly damaged, and CSU's still working on reconstructing them, so I can't determine if he's a visitor."

Castle slipped a large magnifying glass from Beckett's desk drawer, where he had stowed it earlier.

"There's some sort of marking on his overalls, just here," he said, peering at the printed image.

"What does it look like?"

"Irregular," said Castle, pulling a piece of paper from a notepad, and sketching a rough outline. He sketched it a few times, each time looking ever so slightly different to the last.

Beckett looked down at the scribblings, and paled.

"No…"

"What?"

"It's a dragon."

"What about it?"

Beckett flashed back…

"_You don't understand, Detective," said Gary McCallister, as she stared at him across the interrogation room table. "You woke the Dragon. And this is so much bigger than you realise…"_

"Beckett?"

The soothing, calming voice of Richard Castle breaks her free from her reverie, and she almost leans across and kisses him passionately, but she stops herself at the last moment, remembering her promise to herself to keep the boys guessing. Instead, she goes for an irritated tone.

"What, Castle?"

"What's wrong with dragons?"

"Nothing... It's just..." She stopped, swallowed against her suddenly dry throat, then picked up her coffee mug and took a long swallow. "Do you remember Gary McCallister?"

"One of the rogue cops with Raglan," began Castle, then his face darkened. "And Montgomery."

"Do you remember what he said? In the interview?"

"Uhh…" Castle closed his eyes, trying to remember.

"He told me I woke the Dragon."

"And you think this Dragon is a real person? How do you know that wasn't just a story?" asked Ryan.

"I don't just think. I am almost definite that he is a real person, and he masterminded the hit on my mother, Montgomery, Raglan, McCallister. He hired Lockwood. He hired the sniper who shot me."

A stubborn silence followed her words.

"And I'm going to stop him."

"Beckett... He's already tried to kill you once."

"And how many times has he succeeded?" Beckett's voice rose an octave in pitch and slowly increased in volume, adding a rare, hysterical tone to it.

"He killed your mother, Beckett! He had a sniper put a bullet through you!"

"And I'm not dead, Castle!"

"Beckett, I'm telling you, you need to back off and let people help you."

"I'm not backing off my mother's murder!"

Castle and Beckett were standing nose to nose, once again. But this time, their voices were raising together, and once again, Beckett was drawing the attention of the entire squad room.

"I'm not saying to back off the murder, I'm"

"Well, that's what it sounded like!"

"Beckett!"

"Don't you 'Beckett!' me, Richard Castle!" Beckett's face was flushed red.

"All right, Katherine," said Castle, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Beckett glared at him, then grabbed her coat, slammed the file open on her desk shut, and stormed out, crutching violently away across the bull pen.

Castle just stood there, breathing heavily, the adrenalin coursing through his veins from his anger.

* * *

><p>She didn't know where she was going.<p>

She only knew that she was angry.

She was _so_ angry with him right now.

In her emotion-induced haze, she didn't know where she was going, except she was aware she wanted to go _away_. She wanted to run, to hide, and when he came looking, to fight back.

She hadn't noticed she had hailed a cab, but she climbed in and gave the address for her apartment. The cabbie looked at her oddly, but took her to the building or, rather, to the burnt-out remnant of the wrecked structure.

She cursed, then asked the cabbie to take her out to Washington Heights.

"Gonna cost you, darlin'," he said. "I don't much like that end of town."

"I'm still going out there," Kate replied.

She gave the cabbie directions to a mid-sized house in Washington Heights. It nestled in amongst a street of similar buildings, the leafy suburbia helping to screen it, and keep it private and quiet.

She paid the cabbie giving him a generous tip, too, for his trouble and stepped out onto the pavement, slowly walking up the garden path to the doorway of the house.

She knocked.

After a moment, the door opened to reveal the tall, slim frame of Jim Beckett.

"Oh, dad," she cried, and pulled him into a hug.


	20. Chapter 20: Coffee

_So, I've been blocked. As I write this, I'm staring at the document called "Eclectics Roadmap" and wondering what exactly I was thinking when I wrote "Merger board", "Kate investigates", and "Investigating **redacted**" under chapter 19. Naturally, none of that happened in chapter 19._

_I've been writing assorted fictions for many years, and this is probably the worst block I've had. Perhaps I can blame Always for how I'm currently faring while writing. Perhaps I can blame my lack of time. If you want more regular updates on my writing, follow me on Twitter — I'm  scrivendown over there._

_Praise be, Chkgun93, for reviewing. Please, dear reader, review!_

* * *

><p>Rick stared at the murder board by Kate's desk, noting the stares of the officers around him; both Esposito and Ryan had curious facial expressions on. He ignored the pointed stares, though, and pulled files out of the crate he had brought, placing two on the desk, and pulling a few items out of another and clipping them onto the murder board.<p>

Inwardly, his heart was tied up emotional turmoil. For one, he was still furious with Kate that she had such blatant disregard for her own life, and for another the amount of love for her that he had at that moment was unbelievable.

"Dude, what was that?"

Ryan's usually calm, friendly tone was bleak. Castle turned to face him.

"We've had falling-outs before. It's nothing new."

"Yes, but you've never had a full-on shouting match before."

"Yeah, well, we've never s—" Rick caught himself before he confessed to sleeping with Kate, but rapidly reoriented his thoughts, and continued without a noticeable pause in his flow, "—een complete eye to eye about everything. Look, you know what she's up against. You know what she's running at."

"Yeah, and we've tried to stop her before."

"I _will_ stop her from doing it herself."

"Castle… You're playing with fire."

"Please, Ryan. If she goes after anyone, I'm with her, but I'm not a cop. I'm a writer with delusions of justice."

"No, Castle. You're a writer with delusions of love."

Ryan's words would have struck home much harder a few days previously, but now, with Rick and Kate actually in a relationship, albeit somewhat secret, the words lost the effect that he was intending. Nonetheless, Rick tried to play the part convincingly.

"So what should I do?"

"Find her. Knowing her, she's angry enough right now to run straight at the Mayor and arrest him for abetting obstruction of justice."

"… what?"

"For saddling her with you."

Esposito had been listening intently to the exchange, and now chipped in. "Do you really think you'll survive that?"

Castle turned, suddenly panicked, and jogged rapidly for the elevator, pulling his phone from his jeans and dialling Beckett's number.

As soon as the doors closed on Castle's frantic face, Ryan and Esposito's faces both split into identical, wide boyish grins as they walked back to their desks.

"Oh, man, he's totally whacked," said Ryan gleefully.

"You know, I'd almost expect by that reaction that they're sleeping together. I wonder what Lanie would think," said Esposito, reaching for his phone. Ryan slammed his phone down on the phone.

"You're going to tell Lanie without any proof? Do you remember what the bet was? Any bad guesses and we lose triple, man."

Esposito's face was grim for a moment.

"I don't have that much money to throw around."

"Exactly."

* * *

><p>Jim Beckett was almost crushed by the force of his daughter's hug.<p>

"Wow, Katie, it's nice to see you and all, but are you trying to do some damage to your father?"

Kate loosened her grip on her father somewhat, and Jim pushed the door shut behind her, propping the crutches up by the door and noting how well that his daughter was walking without them.

They settled on the couch, Kate sitting close beside her father.

"What brings you out to see me, and without your bike, too?"

Kate sniffed, the tears that had not fallen yet threatening to do so. "It's… I…" She sighed, and continued. "We had a bad case come up at work."

"Is this anything to do with the apartment that exploded?"

"Yeah," said Kate, then her mind raced ahead of her, expecting the logical follow-up question, and the memories associated with Castle caused her to blush.

"So, what happened, and why are you blushing like a teenager?"

"Well, it was my building that exploded. Again."

Jim sighed. "So I guess you're out here to find somewhere to live?"

"Well, I've got somewhere. It's just …" — she took in a deep breath, and slowly let it out — "… painful to go there now."

Jim's brow furrowed as he tried to work out what she meant by that statement.

Kate's mobile phone rang, and she dug it out of her pocket, to check the caller ID — Castle. She hit 'ignore', but not before her father had seen it.

"What's happened between you and Castle?"

"We had an argument this morning."

"About what?"

"About Mum. About the murder."

"Katie… you know what happened to both of us after that."

"Yeah, I know. It's just... I found him. I found the guy who killed my mother."

Jim stared at her, speechless.

"I killed him," said Kate, her voice flat, emotionless, belying the emotion that was building behind her inner walls.

"Why?"

"He would've killed Castle, and I -" She stopped, realising just what she was about to say. "I couldn't let that happen."

"You care about Castle," said Jim.

"I do."

"Enough to be able to say that to him?" Jim's words, and the subtext behind those words, shocked Kate into silence. "Look, Katie, you can't go out and get yourself killed. He cares about you, too, even if you don't want to see it, don't want to know it."

"I know it, already, dad. I know it all. We're both madly in love with each other, but we just keep fighting about everything."

"Such as?"

"He wants me to stop looking into mum's murder."

"Is there any good reason you have for looking into Jo's murder?"

Jim's nick name for his wife pulled Kate up short, and made her bite back the reply she was about to give.

"No."

Jim's eyes narrowed, instantly seeing through his daughter's lie. Exhibiting his usual flair for verbal repartée, he replied, "And what good reasons aren't there?"

Kate's lip quirked, despite her emotional turmoil. She had inherited her father's skill at interrogating people and turned it to great advantage, but this was the first time in many years she had ever had it turned on her. She thought Castle would appreciate the irony of the detective being interrogated.

"Because they want me dead, just like they want her dead."

* * *

><p>Castle drove above the speed limit, weaving between the cars, the engine sounding like a tiger, growling softly in challenge. As he drove, he tried to call Kate again. This time, it went straight to voicemail, and in all the time he'd ever worked with her, he'd never gone to her voicemail. Her smooth voice filled the car.<p>

"Hi, you've reached Detective Kate Beckett with the 12th Precinct. Please leave your name and contact number after the tone, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

There was a beep.

"Kate, it's me. Pick up."

There was nothing but resolute silence. Castle sighed.

"Kate, I'm sorry. Please, pick up and we can talk about it."

Again, silence.

"Kate, I love you. I'm so, so sorry for what I said." He sighed again, then hung up.

He drove in silence, bar the purr of the engine, as he tried to work out where she had gone. And in a stroke of brilliance, he turned, and headed out towards Washington Heights, thundering along the freeways of New York.

* * *

><p>Jim finally regained his ability to speak. "What do you mean, they want you dead? Who do?"<p>

"I don't know. All I know is that they've tried twice so far."

"When?" Jim was wary.

"When Roy was killed. When I got shot. When my apartment exploded." Kate was on the verge of tears, but pressed on. "I know they're after me. I don't know why or who. I can feel the crosshairs on my back, and I know that it's only a matter of time before someone pulls the trigger. How lucky will I be that time?"

"Luck isn't it, Kate —" began Jim, calmly, but Kate cut across him, incensed.

"So I was lucky that Roy gave his life to save me? So I was lucky that when I was shot in the chest, Castle saved me? So I was lucky that when my apartment exploded, I was with Castle?"

Jim was quiet for a moment. "Yes, you are lucky, Katie. You are lucky to have someone who loves you and cares for you so much. If you're just slightly out of sync with each other, that's perfectly normal. You're still young, you've never had a relationship like this before. Your mother and I had a relationship like that - both of us were too young to realise that what we had was such deep love."

There was a hurried knock at the door, and Kate started. Jim stood, and crossed to the entrance area to open it to reveal Rick, puffing, clutching his phone with one hand and a set of keys with the other.

"Is ... Kate ...," managed Rick.

"Yes, Katie is here, Rick," said Jim, unperturbed, ushering in the exhausted and worried man and closing the front door.

"Rick?" Kate's voice was plaintive, as she stood and turned.

"Kate!" Rick barrelled across the room, seized Kate in a hug, and kissed her passionately as he spun her around. They broke apart after a minute, the depth of their passion making their breathing ragged, and they stared at each other, oblivious to Jim's presence.

"I'm so sorry, Kate. I'm sorry for what I said at the precinct, but I love you too much for you to just throw your life away," said Rick, hand rubbing circles in the small of Kate's back.

Two tears slid slowly down Kate's cheeks as she stared at Castle, holding him tightly, and they stood there for another thirty seconds before Jim cleared his throat.

"Would you two like something to drink, then?"

"Coffee?" asked Rick, smiling down at Kate, who gave him a watery smile in return, and nodded slightly.

"Coffee."


	21. Chapter 21: On The Hunt

_I apologise to any Americans I've offended with my coloUrful language. I can't write any other way any more, I'm afraid. I also apologise to LittleMissCastle if she recognises any of her ideas in here. She's brilliant._

_And I apologise to you, dear reader, that this chapter wasn't up last week. I've been involved in a musical production which finished on Saturday; up until then I'd been flat out for about ten days._

* * *

><p>They sat on the sofa, beside each other, savouring the coffee of Kate's childhood memories. Small gestures between Kate and Rick belied the quality and nature their relationship, and Jim didn't ignore them, but smiled slightly to himself as they listened to Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald.<p>

"This reminds me so much of when you'd pick me up from school on your way home from work, then we'd sit here, listening to music. You'd have coffee, and I'd have a cup of cocoa," Kate reminisced, and Jim smiled at the memory. "Then mum would quietly slip into the house, and start singing quietly along... that was fun. I used to wish that'd never end."

Jim nodded, his expression tightening at the mention of his late wife, and Kate's expression and body language showed that the memory of her mother was affecting her, too. Rick slid a comforting arm around Kate, pulling her close, and she lay her head on his shoulder, slipping an arm around him, too.

"After she died, I used to imagine her walking in that door, wearing her huge, radiant smile, and just hugging me again, one more time. Those days were my better days. I wouldn't have anything to drink because I knew that she didn't want me to. But after a few months, I finally realised that I'd never feel my wife's arms around me, and it hurt to know that she'd never be able to do it again."

Kate and Rick both watched Jim as he remembered his days of pain and his battle with alcohol.

"It was hard, in the end, trying to turn myself around. When Katie made detective, I cleaned up my act, and I pulled myself together. I finally accepted that I'd never be with my Johanna again. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done."

There was a pause, then Jim stood and collected their now-empty coffee cups, and excused himself to clean them. Kate also stood and excused herself to the bathroom, so Rick stood and followed Jim into the comfortable kitchen.

* * *

><p>"Rick..."<p>

"Yes, Jim?"

"Do you care for Katie?"

The unexpected question brought Rick up short. "I do, with all my heart. I'll never stop caring about her."

"Because the last time she started to look into Johanna's murder, I couldn't ... I couldn't take seeing her throwing her life away. And I didn't think to stop her doing it. I didn't think to stop her doing that. I cared too much, and not enough, Rick."

Jim's expression was sad in profile as Rick watched him putting the coffee cups into the sink, carefully, precisely.

"I need someone to be there this time. I can't stand beside her any more; I'm too old, too grey to keep up with her."

"You want me to stand with her?"

"She cares about you, too, and I don't think either of you could let what happened to her all those years ago happen to either of you. Promise me that, Rick," said Jim, his voice low and sharp.

"I've tried, Jim. I've tried many times. But she doesn't want anyone to help her. She barely trusts me —"

"And yet you are her partner, and her closest confidante, and from what I've seen of the both of you today, her lover," said Jim Beckett, insight penetrating like a knife. As Rick stood there, momentarily dumbfounded, Jim continued, "You need to protect her from herself if you care about her that much."

A phone rang. Rick's hand jumped to his jacket pocket, where he found the offending device, slid it free, and answered it.

"Castle."

"Uhh... did I get the wrong number?" asked a very confused Javier Esposito.

"I don't think so," said Castle, then froze, noting another quick hum from his supposedly empty jacket pocket, originating from, he found, another phone: _his_ phone. His writer's brain did the math, and came to the conclusion that he must be holding Kate's phone, and Esposito confirmed his suspicion when he continued.

"I'm fairly certain I dialled Beckett's number. I'll try again, then," said Esposito, then hung up.

Rick shook his head and turned, still holding both phones, to see Kate stepping through the doorframe, her slight smile illuminating the room, and contrasting the underlying tension between the two men.

* * *

><p>"So that's where my phone went!" Kate said, looking relieved. "I was holding it when I came in, and I thought I'd dropped it, and apparently I did."<p>

"Yeah. Into my pocket," said Rick, just as it rang again, and he handed it to her.

"Beckett," she said, answering it.

"Yo, Beckett, we've got something on this whole Operation Eclectics thing. And it's big."

"What did you find?"

"That it's big. It's really big."

"So how did it take this long to find it?"

"Because it's also invisible. Military invisible."

Kate was silent for a few seconds, thinking.

"We've got a lead on who your mystery man is, too, so you better get back here ASAP."

"Okay, I'll be there in about an hour," said Kate.

"Copy that, boss," said Esposito, and rung off.

* * *

><p>They made their excuses to Jim, about ten minutes later, and headed out. Kate's arm rested comfortably around Rick as they left, although Rick did manage to have the quick chat with Jim that he had been meaning to get in for a long while.<p>

Kate gently stroked the back of Rick's neck as he drove back into Manhattan, back to his loft. Almost the entire time, he wore a satisfied smile.

"What's the face for?" asked Kate.

"Just what your dad told me."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing of interest."

"Then why are you grinning like a lunatic?" Kate's eyes narrowed.

"Oh, my dear detective, you'll find out eventually," said Rick, as they turned down into the basement carpark under Rick's loft.

"You want to play that game, eh?" asked Kate, as they pulled into a parking space, and as soon as Rick stopped the engine, she pressed her lips to his, curling her hands around him, holding him tightly. When they broke apart, their breathing was ragged, discordant.

"What was that for?" asked Rick, breathless.

"Because you're a horrible tease. And … I love you."

"And I love you. Always."

"Always," whispered Kate, then kissed him again.

This time, Rick pulled away.

"If you want to be back at the precinct in about half an hour, you'd better not start this yet."

"Oh, but what if I don't want to be back at the precinct yet?" purred Kate, seductively, and that was the last straw for Rick, who threw his door open, picked her up bodily, closed the car, and carried her to the lift, all the while, kissing her passionately.

What little of Rick's mind was not yet distracted mused that it was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>An hour later, freshly showered and changed, both of them stepped through the doors of the 12th precinct, both of them barely suppressing huge grins. Their fingers twined together as they rode the lift up to the homicide squadroom, and they stepped out together, into the momentary calm of the lunch hour.<p>

Rick made a beeline for the break room, where he started the coffee machine, while Kate slowly walked back to her desk, to find out what had popped while she had been out.

"Yo, Beckett, what happened back there?" asked Esposito, first to the scene as usual, followed by Ryan, who was jotting a few notes down on his notepad.

"Nothing. Why?"

"Because you two have a shouting match to wake the dead, then you guys storm out of here? And you show up —" Ryan glanced at his watch "— four hours later, both looking well-rested and happy?"

"We just had a little disagreement," began Kate, before Esposito cut her off, his tone cutting and sarcastic.

"A _little_ disagreement?"

"Yes. A little disagreement. Now what's so important that you drag me away from reconciling with Castle?"

Ryan quirked an eyebrow, as Esposito began. "We ran your boy as far back as we could. We got no hits. Then Ryan, here, gets the bright idea to do a quick look over the military codename databases, and the name Eclectics is allocated to a high-security political section. No other details."

Kate sighed.

"No hits on your dragon. We also did gang and narc searches for dealers or gangs that have anything to do with dragons; both came back negative, although gang squad has a lot of stuff to search through so they're doing a deep search now," said Esposito, leafing through some files.

Kate jotted a few things onto the sticky-note pad on her desk, admiring the way that the cheap ripoffs flaked off the stack.

Ryan picked up the story. "But your Smith guy, well, he's a real piece of work."

"Let me guess. Doesn't exist, face doesn't match."

"Correct. But as soon as we found this was military, we sent what information we had to one of my pals at Homeland Security, who turned up a few leads on him. Tech back-aged his face and ran it through old DMV pictures from cross-country, and we got twenty-two hits, which we filtered down to about four."

Castle, who had slid up to the group by this point holding two coffees, chimed in, "Why don't you do track his phone?"

He offered one of the mugs to Beckett, who accepted it, took a sip, and smiled appreciatively.

"Because we can't. The calls were untraceable."

"That's impossible. There's got to be routing somewhere."

"Sure. Doesn't mean it was logged, and by the look of it, it was deliberately erased. Tech went and had a look, and the best they could get is that it's not interstate; it didn't switch in from the interstate lines."

"Voice recognition?"

"We have idea what your man's voice sounds like," said Esposito, sounding as if he were speaking to the hard-of-thinking. Castle persisted.

"But I do. I've spoken to him. I could identify his voice."

Ryan and Esposito exchanged glances, then both ran back to their desks, eager to get onto their task.

"Thank you for the coffee, Castle ... Rick."

"Always, Beckett ... Kate," Rick said, mimicking Kate's momentary hesitation, and somehow, he managed to say the name with a huskiness in his voice that made her lust after him again.

With a frustrated sigh, she swept her hair back, and went to work, reading the files that had piled up on her desk over the last few hours.


	22. Chapter 22: Meeting Mr Smith

_So, uh, I have a giant Matt Smith staring at me. That sets the tone nicely for this chapter. Of course, my Mr. Smith is not named Matt._

_For the last few days, I've had the flu. In between sleeping it off, I've been watching my way through the series Bones, which inspired all the holsters about half-way through here. Not sure I'd write a Bonesfic though._

_Thank you, thank you, my dear reviewers! I'd list who you were, but my ISP has broken my Internet connection, and it looks like I'll be uploading this via my 'phone. Also, keep your eyes on my Twitter account, where I'll be letting you know as I add chapters._

* * *

><p>An hour later, they all sat down in the conference room. Ryan slipped a freshly-burned disk into the CD player, while Beckett shuffled through some notes in her file, and Castle took a long draught of his coffee.<p>

"Okay, Castle. We have twelve answer machine recordings for you to listen to. If you recognise any of them, shout out," said Ryan, and Castle nodded his understanding.

They sat there for minutes, while Ryan played through each of the twelve answering messages, and for each and every one, Castle shook his head.

Except the last one.

"You've reached Devlin Smith. Leave a message after the tone," said the recorded, fuzzy voice, and Castle sat up in his chair, putting his mug down on the conference table.

"That's him," he said. "That's his voice."

* * *

><p>"Yo, Beckett," called Esposito, and she looked up to see him hurrying across the room, holding a thick file. "We got as much info as we could on your boy there. But there's a problem."<p>

"It's all faked," said Castle.

"… Yeah, it's all fake," said Esposito, pausing momentarily. "Fake drivers license, fake credit history, fake everything. Eleven years ago, he didn't exist."

Beckett's eyes closed, and she slumped down, resting her head on her hands, propping her elbows on the desk. Without moving from that position, she asked, "Do we have a location on him?"

"We have an address in the suburbs."

She sat up. "Call dispatch, get heavy response teams out, get ready to move towards that address."

"On it, boss," said Esposito, then jogged away back to his desk.

Castle's mobile trilled, and he pulled it out to see the caller ID — at which his eyes widened, and he gesticulated wildly to Beckett, who started typing furiously at her computer, putting a trace on the phone.

After a frantic handful of seconds, she turned and nodded, plugging a headset into the computer to listen in.

Castle answered.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Castle, I hear that you're looking for me."

"Me? No, I'm not looking for you."

"Then why have I seen my name plastered across half the databases I am watching, and why have I had a few phone calls today from the 12th precinct?"

"Uh, well, that's not me," said Castle, prevaricating, trying to bluff his way out.

"Well, Mr. Castle, that suggests that Detective Beckett is digging. And do you know what I've told you before? If she digs, I cannot ensure her safety. If she digs, I cannot ensure she will remain alive."

He hung up.

Castle was momentarily silent, staring at Beckett, who was staring back at him, looking shocked and confused. He shook his head slightly.

"You were trying to protect me?" asked Kate, quietly, suddenly realising why Rick had lied.

"Because I love you, Kate. Because I don't want you to get hurt," replied Rick, his quiet voice breaking from the emotion suddenly burning through him.

"Thank you, Rick," replied Kate, and she slid across to wrap her arms around him, drawing him into a tight but quick hug.

* * *

><p>They pulled up outside the parking garage.<p>

"Are you sure this is the place?" asked Castle, peering at the car navigator.

"I'm positive. This is the address that we pulled off his cell phone. It's a burner phone. Paid in cash, too."

"This seems too easy. It's almost like he's expecting us."

"He probably is."

Castle's phone rang, again, almost exactly on cue, and he answered it, putting it on speakerphone.

"Mr. Castle, I see you can't quite understand my instructions," said the cold voice of Mr. Smith.

"I'm sorry?"

"I can see about half a dozen police patrol vehicles that have pulled up around this area, and I know you're in one of them."

"What now?"

"Come up. You and Detective Beckett only. On foot. No backup. No weapons."

"We won't come up without weapons."

"Well, we can do this the hard way. I could arrange for Detective Beckett to become a target immediately."

Beckett looked across at Castle, to see his face pulled tense, his eyes shut, his brows furrowed deeply. When he spoke again, there was incredibly deep building fury behind his voice.

"No. We'll come."

"You'll bring no weapons?"

"No weapons."

"Excellent. Come to level 5."

The phone went dead.

"We don't take weapons?"

"He made a vital mistake that he should never, ever make when dealing with a writer," said Castle, his tone belying his fury.

"What was that?"

"He was ambiguous. I won't take any weapons at all. But you're free to take a dozen rocket-launchers if you like."

Beckett let out one short laugh, then reached back and grabbed two small cases. Inside one was a handful of holsters, and she fitted them all; one to the outside of each thigh, the inside of both calves, and double-hip and double-midriff holsters, and into each of them she slid a pistol, first checking the clips were full, then ramming them home into the holster.

"Armed to the nines, Beckett?" Castle joked, his momentary gaiety easing Beckett's mind somewhat.

"Well, at least I'll be well-armed," she said grimly.

"Yo, Beckett," squawked the radio. It was Esposito.

"Go."

"What's happening?"

"I'm going in. Call in Ruby," said Beckett, using a pre-agreed codeword. They had good cause to suspect that their radios were being tapped, and thus they had agreed in advance a number of codewords for the personnel involved, including, in this case, the ten police snipers that were located around the site.

"All units, calling in Ruby," responded Esposito, and there were a chorus of acknowledgements from all the police snipers now watching from the buildings surrounding the parking structure on all four sides.

Beckett now opened the second case, grabbing the tiny radio kit, and slipped it on, pushing the earpiece into her ear, and slipping the radio unit down one of the pockets of her bullet-proof vest.

Castle, meanwhile, was watching with interest, noting the way she prepared herself as she equipped herself, seeing that, with each piece of kit she put on, the more tight and fixed her face was, the more separated from this. He knew that she didn't enjoy doing this, but she had done it enough times to know how badly wrong it could go.

* * *

><p>They climbed up to the fifth level of the complex, and Beckett stepped out, trying to look calm and composed while wearing one half of her bodyweight in equipment, including guns and body armour. She took a swig from her canteen, then offered it to Castle, who took it with murmured thanks, and took a short swig himself, then screwed the lid on and passed it back.<p>

All the time, he felt like a radar installation on high alert as he peered into the poorly-lit gloom of the parking structure, trying to spot some trace of the man they were hunting.

"What now?" murmured Castle.

"Esposito, status," muttured Beckett.

The tiny voice of Esposito was just audible in Beckett's left ear. "We can see you on the IR camera, and we can see a small anomaly about twenty yards away at two o'clock."

"Could it be a car?"

"I doubt it."

"Okay, we'll have a look, then."

Rick caught Kate's hand for a moment.

"I love you," he murmured in her ear as he hugged her close, and around the forest of equipment that she wore, she hugged him back, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I love you too," replied Kate, then they broke the hug, switching back to full professional mode.

Kate pulled out her flashlight, flicked it on, and held it before her, taking Rick's hand in hers, and they slowly walked forwards, watching the area before them as they went.

There was a sudden whip-like crack before them, and Castle fell to his knees, groaning in agony, as, out of the night, a figure wearing a trench coat emerged, a taser outstretched and pointed squarely at the writer.


	23. Chapter 23: It's Just A Stun Grenade

G'day.

You probably don't remember me or this story. It's been almost three months since I updated it. In that time, my inspiration disappeared, my workload quadrupled, and my mind melted.

In the intervening time, I finished _Bones_, watched most of _Chuck_ (the first four seasons, at least), and started watching _Fringe_ with LittleMissCastle.

Thanks mostly to a single review I received this week while I'm on holiday in Fiji, I've decided I'm going to finish this story as I originally planned it in one week, before I see 5x01 or read "Frozen Heat".

Huge hugs to Chkgun93, CaskettShipper1998, LittleMissCastle, and LadyAilith for putting up with the (long) delay.

If you want more regular updates on my writing, follow me on Twitter — I'm scrivendown there.

* * *

><p>A gun appeared in Kate's hand, and she aimed it directly at the shadowy figure.<p>

"Oh dear, Detective. Did you bring a gun, after I asked your writer friend to not bring any weapons?"

"You never asked me not to bring any weapons. You asked him not to bring any weapons, and he didn't bring any weapons."

The shadowy figure was silent for a moment — it ran its hands through its hair — and during the brief respite, Kate ran back over the last few minutes in her head, trying to work out what was nagging her.

That was it — why did Rick fall? He was wearing a bullet-proof vest, able to stop a taser from affecting him. It made no sense. Unless…

Surreptitiously, she nudged Rick's hand, near her boot, and she felt his fingers, shrouded in darkness, tapping in return. Morse code, too — it was a good thing that she'd bothered to train in Morse code. As she decoded the irregular tapping in her head, she knew that only the two of them could work together this well, and she thanked her lucky stars for it.

… di-di-di-dit di-dit dah … dah-di-di-dit dit di-di-di-dit di-dit dah-dit dah-di-dit …

"Well, Detective, I shall be more careful about the wording I use in future," said the figure. "Right now, then —"

"Right now, you can start by telling me your name."

"Oh, I don't think that's really necessary — do you?" The figure's voice held the barest traces of a laugh, reaching into his pocket, and Kate started edging backwards, as the exit, back towards the brighter part of the carpark.

Just as she'd hoped, the figure took slow steps towards her, stepping over Castle's unmoving body, and a few steps later, like a phoenix from the ashes, Castle silently got to his feet, then walked in lock-step behind the man, strides eating the ground between them.

The man — it was now possible to discern that it _was_ a man, greying, hair receding — pulled from his pocket a small device, and it took all of Beckett's self-control to stop her shouting out to Castle, telling him to get away, to run. She eyed the grenade warily.

"Now, it's time to learn what cost I'm willing to pay to keep them away from you, Kate," said the man, fingers rolling around the pin.

Castle's fist thudded into the side of his neck, and he spasmed, hands flailing, twisting backwards, pulling the pin on the grenade —

"Castle! NO!" Beckett screamed as he grabbed the still semi-conscious man and threw him to the ground, before seeing the grenade.

Without breaking his rhythm, he grabbed the grenade, turned, and lobbed it overarm into the dark of the carpark, then grabbed the now-unconscious man, slung him in a fireman's carry, and started striding towards the fire exit.

"Castle, what the hell are you thinking?" she shouted as she ran.

"It's only a stun grenade!" he shouted back.

"Well, you could have told me," said Beckett, slowing to a stop.

Behind them, with a loud _thud_, the grenade exploded. Flames billowed up, racing outwards, illuminating them with a muted orange glow.

"_RUN!_"

* * *

><p>They slammed the door shut, and jogged down the stairs, taking them two at a time. There was an alarming creaking sound.<p>

"Beckett, what's going on?" came Esposito's frantic voice in their earpieces.

"Mister 'It's-just-a-stun-grenade' here nearly got us both killed, that's what just happened," said Beckett, an ugly tone in her voice, but her eyes holding a twinkle for Castle as she glanced up at him from the next flight down.

"Get out of there, both of you," Esposito snapped.

"You hardly expect us to be sitting down having a picnic in here, do you?" puffed Castle.

They burst through the door at the bottom, into the sunlight, a police tactical squad rushing forward to meet them. Castle handed off their shadowy figure, now revealed to be an anonymous, greying man, clean-shaven, with a prominent, hawk-like nose, wearing a dark trench-coat, and under it, a well-tailored suit, anonymous like the rest of him, but distinctly expensive.

"So, uh, what now?" Beckett asked Esposito and Ryan, both standing by a patrol car.

"Well, uh…" Ryan trailed off, his eyes flicking to something behind them. Slowly, Beckett turned.

Captain Victoria Gates stood there, watching the parking structure, a sudden burst of dust puffing out from the third floor, then turned to Beckett.

"What do you call this, then, Detective Beckett?" she spat, rolling incredible contempt into the title.

Beckett glanced at Castle. "It's an abandoned parking garage, sir."

"And why is it now collapsing?"

Both Beckett and Gates looked up at the building, which was now clearly falling inwards, then looked back at each other.

"Look, sir, I can explain —"

"You can explain yourself all you want, Detective Beckett, but I'd like to see you explain your way out of malicious damage to municipal property. Now get back to my office, right now."

* * *

><p>Beckett sat at her desk, staring glumly at the television, on which pictures of the collapsing structure were now being shown, alongside a young newscaster, his round face clearly unused to the serious expression he now wore.<p>

She glanced up, to see Castle placing two mugs down on her desk, one just beside her hand.

"What's happening?"

"She's in her office," said Beckett, still staring at the screen. Castle twisted in his chair to see Gates on the phone, looking directly at Beckett, fury colouring her cheeks, spittle flying from her mouth as she gesticulated violently.

"Well, the first thing you should do is give thanks to the god of soundproofing," joked Castle, trying to lighten the mood, but it only made her sag inwards more, and he saw, sitting on the desk in front of her, her badge and usual gun.

"Castle, the worst that could happen at this point is that she puts me on probation for six to twelve months. But I can't shake the feeling that something worse is going to happen."

"You'll be fine, Kate," murmured Rick, leaning in closer, sending thrills up her spine.

"Detective Beckett. My office. Now." Gates' hard voice cut across the background chatter in the bullpen. Beckett stood, slowly, holding the badge in one hand, and the gun crossways in the other.

As she passed him, she glanced down at Castle, whose face bore a slight smile, and that was enough to bolster her confidence.

As the door swung shut behind her, Gates began her tirade.

"You know, Beckett, that you're a detective of a high calibre and an intelligent, thoughtful person. Did you use any of your experience or common sense today in going after this Mr. Smith? Did you even think to call it in and get approval before going to meet him?"

"With all due respect, Captain, I'm authorised to initiate TacOps, and my track record speaks for itself —"

"I don't care what your track record says, I don't care if you've called in two dozen tactical operations in the past. I don't know what kind of a shop Montgomery was running here, but it certainly seems to have been one of an incredibly poor standard. You took a civilian into the line of fire, you had no backup, and your team of snipers could have done nothing to protect your well-being. You're too close to this case, Detective Beckett. You have blatantly ignored the responsibilities of a senior officer in the NYPD."

"Yes, sir," mumbled Beckett.

"I'm placing you on administrative suspension, effective immediately. Hand over your badge and gun."

Beckett looked up, unbelieving.

"Administrative suspension?"

"Indefinitely. Now hand over your badge and gun," Gates spat.

She put the gun down on the desk, then paused. Kate Beckett rolled her badge in her hand, seeing the diffuse light from outside reflect off its clear face. She ran a thumb over the badge number, seeing it gleam dully, and she remembered what it had taken to get it, how long she had devoted her life to it, and how it was being taken away.

"Keep it," said Beckett, her voice suddenly cold. "I resign."

She turned on her heel, and left the room. Behind her, Gates stared, unbelieving, at the retreating back.

* * *

><p>The roiling clouds earlier had broken to a heavy storm, and as Beckett stacked what things she had into a cardboard box, she heard the thunder, rumbling through the precinct. She had already sent Castle home, and now she looked at the chair that sat beside her desk, worn slightly by Castle's presence, and she realised that, as her time here came to a close, her relationship with him would have to change dramatically.<p>

She put her handbag on top of the box, and sighed. Esposito and Ryan were out, chasing leads, and when they came back, there were sure to be questions, questions she couldn't answer yet.

She sighed, turned towards the elevator, and slowly walked to it, the short stretch of open space feeling too exposed, as countless eyes saw her, followed her…

The elevator doors opened, she stepped inside, and paused, reaching for the button for the basement car park. She had already given back the keys to her Crown Victoria cruiser, and now expected nothing short of a scrap heap for her dear friend of countless operations. She had already said her goodbyes to it, and now she realised she had no way home.

She pressed 'ground', hoping to catch a taxi, but as she stepped out into the damp lobby, the rain looked to be her enemy, falling thickly, heavily. Shaking her head, Beckett crossed to to the reception desk, put down the box, signed out, and sighed, reaching for her phone, dialling a familiar number, one that filled her with comfort now.

* * *

><p>Castle sat at his desk, typing furiously, brainstorming ideas for another Nikki Heat book, when his phone rang. He hit the speakerphone.<p>

"Castle."

"Hey," said a familiar voice.

"Detective Beckett, to what do I owe the pleasure? Regretting sending me home early, perhaps?"

There was a momentary pause, then Beckett spoke. "Can you come and pick me up from the precinct?"

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"I'm on my way," said Castle, standing up.

"Thanks," said Beckett. "I … I love you."

"Love you too. See you shortly," he said, and rung off.

Castle saved his work and closed his laptop, wincing at the creak the hinge made, and hoping to pick up his new laptop in a few days. He snatched up his key chain and phone, and slipped quietly out of the apartment.

As he pulled up in the pouring rain outside the precinct, he grabbed a large umbrella, and with a practiced manoevure, put it up as he opened the door, and once again briefly contemplating a car with gull-wing doors.

He strode through the pouring rain, finding Beckett standing in the foyer, holding a box, and looking thoroughly underdressed for the rain. They greeted each other with a brief hug, then Castle took the box, and they walked out to the car.

"Once again, I'm reminded how you aren't just some guy with a car," said Beckett, seeing the black Audi, it's sleek lines funnelling rainwater off.

"When have I ever been just a guy with a car, m'dear?" asked Rick, smiling, as he opened the passenger side door for her to clamber in, then passed the box in to her.

Finally, in the comfort of the car, with the gentle, irregular staccato of raindrops drumming against the roof, she sighed as they pulled away, looking out the window into the rain.


End file.
